


Mind Reader

by IsabelPigott



Category: Real Person Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 68,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsabelPigott/pseuds/IsabelPigott
Summary: After being kidnapped and tricked into a system where he gets no benefit, Louis breaks out the best he can at the first chance he can get.The dangerous, psychotic man that is his captor relocated him with ease, but Louis is determined to declare a few moments of freedom for himself despite the agony that is about to follow.





	1. Mummy's little boy

I was much younger when it happened.

It didn't take the man much effort to hurt me, I was vulnerable. I shouldn't have walked even two small steps behind my mum and Mark when we went to town, and I regretted shaking that man's hand for the rest of my life.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Mummy held one of my hands, and Mark held the other. As we strolled leisurely down the sidewalk, they would lift me off my feet and gently swing me back and forth.

"Ready Louis?" Mark asked, and I started giggling to myself as a response. I looked up at him and flashed a goofy smile to get him to laugh with me, and it worked.

"One, two, three...whoa!" they carried out the last word in unison to sound like I'm actually flying, and I started laughing so hard that they needed to stop walking for a minute. Mark let go of my hand and let me be, but mummy smiled and knelt down to laugh with me as I was doubled over.

"Mummy!" out of the corner of my eye I found a flower growing out between the corner of the sidewalk and the storefront it met, and I need to share my discovery. Mummy loves when flowers grow out of places other than green grass- like cracks in the concrete, or sand. She told me that flowers that work that hard to grow are always the prettiest ones.

"That's a very pretty flower Louis," she commended me, and smiled as I gave her a high five. She enunciated the "T" sound in "pretty", but I take after Mark in most of my speech and don't pronounce the "T" sound in most words. I don't know why that is, I do everything else like my mummy.

After she met my outstretched hand, she folded her fingers so she held my tiny palm in hers. From there she pulled me in a few baby steps, and quickly kissed me on the forehead.

"Blegh!" she giggled as I stuck my tongue out. The sidewalks are empty save for a few people on the other side of the road, but I still blushed in embarrassment.

Mummy let go of my hand to give me space, she knows I don't like being smothered. She does it anyway, but that's beside the point.

I kept my head down as I continued to check for flowers to show her. I tried to find purple ones, because it's her favourite colour. I'm so occupied with my secret undertaking that I didn't realize how far I fell behind.

"Lou, can you hold my hand?" she asked before we crossed a little one way street. She waited for me to catch up, and smiled as I skipped up to her.

She twitched her fingers and opened her hand as I had fallen behind once again. But I'm not going to hold her hand, at least not until I found her the perfect flower.

"Don't peek!" I instructed, and she reluctantly turned away.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Boss, she broke free. No one is reporting her location. Sh-she's out of the country," the henchman hesitantly reported to the mastermind.

"Dammit!" the evil man cursed.

"Does she know what she has done?She costed us billions!" he shouted as he pounded his fist on the table. The accomplice cowered, clearly frightened of the power his superior possessed.

"Find me someone else!" he commanded, and the henchman nodded and stumbled out of the room.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I bent down next to a beautiful purple flower, and almost opened my mouth to bring mummy's attention to it. I never picked it, it needs to grow and let other little kids admire it. That's what mummy says, at least.

Before I could call out to her, a big hand with rough skin smacked into my mouth, and covered my nose as well so I could barely breathe. I tried biting or even licking their fingers so they would drop me and I could scream for mummy, but I can't move my jaw.

I felt the person's other hand on me. They wrapped their arm around my knees and folded me up like a lawn chair so they could pick me up easier. I repeatedly kicked their elbow and heard them grunt, but other than that, all I accomplished was wriggling out of my shoes and one sock.

As they began to carry me away, I tried to hit them so they would drop me and I could run to mummy. She says hitting is wrong, but if I'm ever in danger I should do whatever I need to get myself away from the attacker.

I couldn't hit the evil person, because my arms are pressed to their chest so firmly that I can't feel them anymore. I kicked their waist repeatedly, and mummy still didn't come to help.

Mummy and Mark didn't look back. In all fairness, I did tell them not to peek.

I was tossed in the trunk of the car as they started to move and drive someplace far away. Just as suddenly as they came, they disappeared, this time with me in tow.

There aren't any windows where I've been thrown, so I can't see what is around me. Every time the driver hits a bump I fall over, and after I hit the dirty floor a few times I just stayed on the filthy ground.

As much and as loudly as I screamed, no sound traveled far enough to save me.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The idiot keeps shrieking for his mum, how naive. He's thrashing around and in absolute fits, but I could tell he's clever because he didn't dare try to run away.

My partner let go of him against the wall, and he didn't move from that spot.

"I'm the man that'll make you powerful. I'm giving you infinite knowledge, and I only ask a small favor of you in return. I just want you to keep it forever! Sounds nice, doesn't it?" the little boy is convulsing violently, and he didn't stop screaming for his mum and sobbing. I spoke gently to him, but his face became bleached with terror as soon as he laid eyes on me. He isn't listening to me introduce myself, he's much too terrified.

"Do we have a deal?" I approached him and extended one hand for him to shake. My other remained behind my back, effectively hiding the knife that I'm holding. The boy's entire body is already trembling, it won't cause him too much grief to make a deal.

"What's your name?" I asked him, trying to find out what he sounds like when he's not hysterical.

I repeated my question, more firmly this time, irritated with his mortified silence.

"Mummy said not'ta talk to strangers," he mumbled what I assumed to be the only thing he knew. A rather pathetic cry from him filled the room as I couldn't help but chuckle. Under normal circumstances, I almost couldn't understand him because he has an awful speech impediment.

"Oh, but I'm not a stranger! My name is Damian, and I'm your friend. What's your name?" I asked, and this time he answered my question. I've learned that it's much easier to mislead children when you put up a friendly tone.

"Louis," he sniffled, his voice quiet. Once he looked up and saw the weapon I brought from behind my back, he froze. I saw his teary, reddened eyes widen as I ran my finger along the razor sharp blade.

"What? I can't hear you," I grinned, and he gasped for breath and resumed crying for his mum. He never stopped repeating her name, he just gained the sense to do it quietly. I waited patiently for his response.

He shouted once, and slammed his hands to the floor while he rocked forward. He didn't know what to do with his arms, so while he curled up his arms flailed around him. He couldn't decide if he wanted to cover his ears, clutch his head, or wrap them around his chest. He alternated between the three, until I grabbed his hand and jerked him towards me.

"I asked you a question," his face was centimeters away from me, and I could feel his heart beating.

"Louis," he answered eventually, and softer than before. He sighed in relief as I got off of him, and turned to flip the knife over in my hands and admire the shiny silver it's composed of.

He looks positively electrified with horror, it's fantastic.

I knelt in front of him.

"Shake my hand, Louis," I commanded, and he promptly obeyed.

"I'm about to do something that'll hurt you quite a bit. But, it's all part of our deal. Also, if you ever break our promise, you'll be meeting this." I took a break in my lecture to dangle the knife in his face, before standing once more to pace. The view of the knife forced him to obey my every whim. I'll admit, my words aren't that intimidating. It's the daunting physical power I held over him, accompanied by the weapon I gripped, that struck fear through his chest.

I swung the gleaming blade from side to side. The boys fearful eyes followed its movement.

"And we don't want that to happen, now do we?" I cocked my head and stopped my pacing so I stood directly in front of him.

He shook his head, he knew that my remark isn't rhetorical.

"I don't want to hurt you, even though I need to. We are friends, after all. Friends share things, and we're going to share this. You'll just be the one taking the pain for it." I shrugged, it's no big deal to me. Louis screeched for his mum again with a renewed energy, but it's not like she can save him.

"I don't wanna share anythin' with you!" he suddenly gained the courage to shout, and I made sure he immediately regret it. 

I swiftly brought the knife up and made a shallow cut along his neck and across his jugular. He yelped in surprise, but silenced himself according to my command.

"How many times can you disobey me before it kills you?" I wondered, my tone jovial. What I did wasn't deep enough to do much damage, but it will burn for a long while and probably scar over.

Finally, he stopped calling for her. It only took me slitting his throat.

I severed the ties around his feet, I didn't care if I cut his ankles in the process. He will be in overwhelming agony in a few seconds, it doesn't matter the state he's in now.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Before I could stand up on my own, the same man that took me in the first place lifted me up again. He pulled a bag over my head, and tied it shut around my neck. I don't know what he's doing to me, and the uncertainty gives me reason to be even more anxious.

He threw me into a bath of some sort, but it isn't filled with water.

The strange liquid started to burn my skin, but I couldn't part my lips to scream in pain lest I enable the fluid to do more damage. I tried to claw my way out of this fiery pit, but I was unable. I'm being held down against a force I don't have the strength to rebel against a second time.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"He's jus' a li'le kid." the worker choked up as he closed his eyes, trying to avoid seeing what he's doing. The child writhed underneath him, but his bare hand remained unmoved. He couldn't see the young boys facial expressions, but he witnessed the child repeatedly bash his head into the ground.

His thick accent is difficult to decipher, but Damian doesn't view his mumbling as something that needs to be investigated.

Unimaginable suffering. That's all this can be chalked up to, there's no other way to describe it. The boy pushed his hips up briefly to kick his legs out, only until Damians minion moved his own arms to hold him down. He punched or slapped the ground below him, similar to how you tap out in wrestling when you can't handle any more injuries.

All his actions appeared to be in slow motion, but Louis made it obvious that the evil man is killing him. Damian didn't care to look, he didn't want to get a drop of the chemicals on him.

"Deeper, against the ground," he demanded, and the worker winced as the chemicals used against the child dissolved more of the skin on his own arm.

The henchman's breath caught in his throat when the child stopped struggling. Everything is still, and everyone is silent.

Against Damian's clear instructions, thirty seconds too soon he pulled the drowned boy out of the chemical bath.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I was thrown to the floor, and screamed before I even took a breath. The sound of my voice is inhuman, it's guttural and clearly suffocated.

I shrieked until I couldn't anymore, and within minutes my lungs were so worn that I could barely breathe.

I spent all the will I have to curl up so I'm facing away from him. It drained anything I have left, but it's worth it. The skin on my entire body is charred and cracked, and I began to bleed the moment I moved.

I closed my eyes and accepted whatever will happen next. I know, it can't get worse from here.

"Ah, beautiful, you did it!" Damian commended me as I started sobbing. The immense sadness I feel overtook shock for a moment. I let myself cry, allowing the tears to reduce me to nothing else.

Have you seen my son? Please, has anyone seen him? My heart beat faster as I started to hear the echo of mummy's voice, as if she is talking to me despite her absence. My hands began shaking with anticipation. I did my best to ignore the pain that I just caused myself by squirming around. I began to tremble and hyperventilate, hoping against hope that mummy is about to walk through the door.

I began to hear Marks voice too, and others that I couldn't identify. I heard and felt everyone all at once, and it overwhelmed me. I started calling out for mummy again, stupidly thinking that if I could hear her, she could hear me. I shouted for someone to help me through this mass of confusion and pain, but I was met with no assistance. I pleaded for an answer to know what is happening to my brain.

I started to hear Damian's voice, and his haunting laugh.

"Actually, I want to do one more thing to make sure you never escape me- I'm sure you already know what it is." he took the knife, and the man that held me down in the bath also did so now while I wailed for help.

Please be okay li''le guy... I heard his voice, even though I didn't see his mouth move.

"I didn't break our promise!" I finally shouted something cohesive, and Damian looked surprised.

"How old are you?" he stopped to ask, but never broke the tension.

"I-I'm six," I sniffled, and Damian nodded, seemingly impressed.

The man held my head so I looked to the ceiling, and I swallowed the lump in my throat as he pushed my head into the wall to the point of immobility. My skin throbbed, and tears started running down my cheeks again.

Damian slowly made two diagonal lines, intersecting at my mouth to look like a giant "X". I couldn't open my mouth to express any of the immense torture I'm experiencing, or he would slice my cheeks apart.

It's too agonizing to possibly be real, completely beyond description. I felt my legs twitching under me, a clear signal to get up and move. But if I did, he would be thrown off and land the knife in my eye as revenge. I felt like I couldn't even breathe, or he would go deeper and sever more muscle and tissue.

Finally, Damian relented. The blade retreated from my face as he stood up. I touched my cheek in shock, and my fingertips were coated in gleaming red in no time at all. There is too much pain at one time for me to process, far too much at once for my nerves to even start reacting to.

Tears ran down my cheeks in waterfalls and burned the open gashes.

"We're going to keep you here for a few nights, though I'm sure you already knew that." Damian chuckled, and I started sobbing as mummy's voice got louder. Her cries became more frequent in my head.

My protests quickly reduced in volume and severity to whimpers, and then I didn't have any remaining energy to say anything. Crying takes a drive I don't have, and if I open my mouth to speak, more of my blood would drip onto my tongue.

And in this short time, I've come to despise that taste. I cough, but the awful flavor lingers in the back of my throat.

The worker started wrapping gauze around his mutilated arm. The sight of it made me gag, it's positively vile. I knew I could never get the horrendous image out of my head.

Especially when I realized that my whole body looks like that.

I ended up sleeping on the ground where I was left, I don't posses the strength to move. Of course, all things considered it's obvious why I couldn't actually sleep. I want to cry because my skin hurts so badly, but I didn't have any tears left to shed. I eventually went numb to the pain of my face, so long as I kept my expression completely emotionless. If I didn't, the wounds would open up again and bleed.

I listened to mummy's anxious voice echo throughout my head for two whole nights. To me, it's comforting to hear her voice one more time. Although she doesn't feel the same ease, she just grows more desperate as the days wear on. She doesn't sleep either, she's spending her life looking for me.

As time dragged on, my skin stopped burning. I started to ache both inside and out, almost as if I internalized what should only be surface burns. They were not only a part of my skin, but emblazoned into my soul as well.

I felt myself getting dizzier, and I wasn't able to keep my eyes open for any longer.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I was awoken in the middle of the third night to police sirens and broken doors as they began searching for me.

I heard mummy's voice coming closer and closer, but I lacked the will to respond.

She found me before anyone else did.

"Louis, love, I'm so happy you're alive," she's crying too, but probably not because her skin hurt.

I kept my head between my knees so she didn't see my lacerated face. She saw my mutilated skin, and was sad enough at that. I didn't turn to face her, I physically couldn't.

"I thought I lost you, my precious baby boy." She cried out as she looked over the blebs and welts all over me. She kissed my forehead, which aside from a few earlier bruises, is free from abuse.

I looked up at her, and I saw that her eyes are filled with tears.

Who did this to you? Her voice was in my head even though she isn't speaking.

Mummy helped me to a car, being extra careful not to touch me. The lights blended together into one bright but ugly colour, and mummy helped me stay upright while I walked so I didn't fall over into the dirt again.

"Mummy, m-my skin hurts." I cried into her shoulder, and gasped in pain as the cuts on my face opened up.

"I'll get you help, I'll make sure you get better love." she cooed, once again on the verge of tears. She's thinking of so many things that she isn't saying.

I swear if I ever find the man who thought it was okay to hurt my child... mummy's voice trailed off in my head as the lights blended nicely into the chaos of everything.

"My skin hur-rts." I whined as she started a bath. She nodded, immense grief showed in her thoughts and expression. My face throbbed, I shouldn't have spoken.

I got in very slowly and reluctantly, the water is exactly like what hurt my skin so terribly. It's what made me hear her voice and so many others in the first place. I only stepped into the bath at all because my mummy told me to and helped me in.

"It's okay, Louis." she coaxed, and held my hand as I got in.

The water is freezing cold, but it doesn't seem that way to me. It's nice for a moment, but my skin still feels like it's throbbing, pulsating with an entirely new wave of torture. Mummy brought warm washcloths up to my face and washed out my cuts, and weeped as she did.

As I climbed into bed, mummy retrieved some gauze pads, using medical tape to press them to my cheeks.

Before I went to sleep, she gently rubbed burn medication into my damaged skin, it's like a cool rush washing through my bones. I feel so numb, I can't complain anymore.

Mummy tucked me in and wished me goodnight, gently kissing my forehead. She didn't hug me, but I knew she desperately wanted to. And I would've let her this time, I wouldn't stick my tongue out and playfully push her away.

"Mummy can you stay? I don't want to get taken from you again." I spoke up to ask at the cost of my face bleeding once again, and she moved back to my bedside immediately.

I fell asleep in my mummy's arms while she rubbed my back. Her fingers barely touched my skin, she's worried that she would hurt me more.

"My precious, lovely boy. I will keep you safe." she hummed, like a lullaby.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Louis, wake up. Now," a voice commanded me. As tears streamed down my cheeks, they soaked and burned the open cuts in my face. I opened my eyes, Damian's voice still ringing in my head.

I'm still trapped.

"How was your night?" he asked cheerfully, just like he has done the morning prior. I really tricked myself into thinking I was freed, but in reality it's just a pleasant dream that I dearly wished was reality.

Although, in reality my mummy would've gotten Damian arrested. In my dream he alluded her grasp, but she would not let that happen in real life. Also, I wouldn't have gone home with her. I would've gone to the hospital where she would've stayed with me, but ICUs have a stigma of loneliness surrounding them. Obviously I would fantasize about being back in the comfort of my own home before I subconsciously consider the pristine and uncomfortable atmosphere of a hospital.

If what I dreamed about played out in real life, I would be in said hospital bed instead of lying in the dirt with mud caked into my wounds. Mummy wouldn't have said a word to me while she took me straight to get help, she doesn't have an ounce of faith in naturology over modern medicine.

I just dreamed that she talked to me so much because I missed her voice so awfully.

"Painful," I answered Damian quietly. If I didn't move my mouth much, it wouldn't feel like it had been set on fire.

"Fantastic," he smirked devilishly.

"Alright, I'm going to help you," he said, and my eyes widened.

"No, I don't need anythin' from you." I desperately tried to build up the energy to move farther away, at least into the shadows of the corner.

God, learn how to speak at least, I heard him think, but he has different things to say.

"Don't you want to get out of here?" he teased, and laughed as he captured my attention once more.

"Let's get out and explore, shall we? I have some people I want you to meet." he smiled, and offered his hand for me to take.

"No, I'm not goin' with you!" I shouted, and gasped as the gashes on my face tore open from my sudden outburst.

I knew exactly what he's doing, mummy warned me about people like him.

He's going to sell me.


	2. Thought and hope

Get in the car. He commanded.

I'll admit, he's cunning. He never says anything he wants me to do, he only thinks it. That way, to anyone who passed by, if I refused I just looked like a disobedient child - not the victim that I am. The word "victim" has crossed Damian's mind a lot lately, especially when he thinks about me.

Additionally, what I look like compared to what I experienced put me at a significant disadvantage.

I put aside the constant thoughts about my mutilated skin to quickly run through the possibilities I collected from both my thinking and others. Obviously, Damian isn't thinking about ways that I can escape, but I keep listening to his horrid thoughts anyway.

I know what entire cities are thinking right now, I just don't know the direction of where they are to run to them. If I knew, I would've thrown caution to the wind and have ran back to my mummy long before hours turned into days.

Louis, listen. He ordered me again. I'm running out of time to think of a plan.

What could I do? Can I escape?

No, I don't know where I am or where I have to go to be free. And because of the scars on my face and the burns on the rest of my body, I'm easy to identify if he sent people looking for me. Not to mention the unnecessary agony I'll inflict on myself if I try to do anything more than hobble around. Anyway, he probably has people already waiting to catch me if I did run, so it doesn't matter how fast I can go - even if I could sprint around like I used to be able to. And I have to consider what would happen if I did manage to free myself. If by some miracle I did get back to where I was, what would I do? I bet mummy won't know who I am anymore, she couldn't recognize me.

In her defense, I've drastically changed. I am not "myself" anymore. I'm not sure what I actually am, but I don't like it. It hurts, and I'm incredibly lonely.

I must throw the little emotion I have to the side and think. Every worry, every concern, and every other feeling has to take root in my mind second to this plan.

Maybe I could go back into the warehouse and hide?

That would not work either. From what I was able to see it's an open space, it has no corners or devices that I could exploit as a hiding place. And if I hid behind any equipment, when Damian found me he would be overjoyed to use it on me. And I can't take that chance.

Get in the car! He's getting impatient, which means that I'm out of options. I cannot beat him physically, I only have the mental capacity I do now because of him.

But I don't owe him anything, I shouldn't have to do what he wants. He forced this on me, he doesn't deserve any favors.

I tried to consider the worst case scenario. If I got in the car with him, I would be clueless. He hasn't thought about this plan at all (which I know is intended), so I don't know where he's going or who he's shoving me off to.

Maybe they're nice? No, I'm sure Damian wouldn't give me the pleasure. He's not going to know anyone that treats people well or even humanely.

Don't make me force you! His shouting voice echoed in my head. The sudden piercing noise made me fall to my knees and cry out.

The dirt was soft, my knees aren't being scratched or cut from being in this position. And I'm lucky for that, they're lacerated quite enough already.

I stayed there longer then I needed to while I thought. My head is throbbing, but it subsided enough to where I can stand up if I want.

My problem has no situational ways out, I determined that. But, I could act based on my minuscule age and at least buy me some time.

So, I started sobbing. I have enough material I could think about to make me very sad. Things like how much my skin hurts, how terribly I miss my mummy, and ultimately how hopeless I feel.

Damian stood there for a moment, not knowing or wanting at all to comfort me. He's shocked and surprised, and although he's hiding it well, it's working.

I continued to do that while I tried again to think of something. Although, if I push this too long, I have a rational fear that his already ephemeral pity will turn into fury.

Could I open the door and get out of the car when he starts driving? But if he sees me trying to unlock the door and I don't succeed immediately, that won't work. Besides, if he starts moving I don't know how to get out of the car without hurting myself.

I can't risk hurting myself, I'm at my limit.

And what's worse, is Damian knows it.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I'm no further to reaching a solution. So, I've reached my final "plan" - which is to say random things and hope it scares him. Or what's worse but just as effective, something that sparks his interest.

"They'll change everything," I said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. I made myself emotionally disassociate, it's alarmingly easy. I rocked back and forth gently, and opened my eyes wider ever so slightly.

Ha! His thoughts went quiet, I'm winning. It's a competition to me, a fight that could only have one person reign victorious. A game that can only end in one winner.

"No one is safe." my face grew troubled. I focused on the ground far away from here to help make that happen.

"The weak, the weak will be destroyed," I started hyperventilating and increasing my volume, realizing that if I lost his interest, he could stab me. He isn't smart enough to figure out what I'm doing, or that this isn't my "master plan".

I'm still stalling, trying to find it.

Tell me who you're talking about! Damian's infuriated thought sounded loudly in my head.

This changes things, I'll concede. I overestimated him, that's the flaw I just discovered.

I thought he pieced together that I'm talking about him, but because of this recent knowledge I need to alter my plans a bit.

Honestly, all I did was change "he'll", to "they'll".

I felt like I made things up, but they turned out to be frighteningly accurate. Especially how "the weak will be destroyed", because I thought of myself as such. I couldn't even breathe freely, I'm not strong by any account.

I had to make myself think despite the pain I'm in, and that's torture on its own.

Louis tell me who you're talking about! Damian demanded again. I couldn't continue my elaborate ruse, not after what I just felt. Someone very close to me, their thoughts are absent.

All the voices are sirens wailing in my head, but still I noticed how one fell silent. The most important thoughts have gone quiet.

I stopped for a moment in my surprise, at the cost of losing everything. Everything I thought so carefully to set up didn't matter to me anymore, it lost its purpose.

A voice left my head. And in a few seconds, I knew whose thoughts went dormant.

Mummy had stopped looking for me.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Damian shoved me into the car, and my body passively obeyed. My mind was urging me to resist, but how could I? If I can't end this nightmare by getting home, what's the point?

That's the thing: I left my life behind, so I have nowhere to go. I don't have a home to return to.

"That took way too long." he grumbled. There's no point for him to be silent now, and I know he loves harassing me by making me hear it twice.

The friction between my injured skin and the seat that I experienced moments before still hurts terribly, but I didn't make a sound. That would be like surrendering and admitting his victory, and I'm not giving up the fight. Not yet.

My skin slowly swelled in response to its agitation. Still, I couldn't help but think. I know children my age shouldn't be thinking to this extent, but I can't help myself. I only know that I'm an out-liar from normal children because I think.

Thinking to no end has became an instinct, it's an automatic thing that I have no power to stop.

If the mothers of kids my age disappeared suddenly, what would they do? Because I know of no precedent, I was left to ponder this question. I needed to find out to mirror them.

I could try to tap into what I'm feeling. But this entire time I've only cried, there's never been a weight on my heart like actual grief. I've been in pain, but my head has never swirled as I felt compelled to scream from it. That's the difference between really feeling something, and just expressing it. They are minor and overlooked, but they exist. And I know, I'm not the sane person I was. But what's terrifying, is that I don't feel any different. I didn't experience a massive shift in how I conduct myself.

I just need to react normally to the world around me, without the excess thoughts that pester me. I need to trick myself into thinking that I'm only average. Of course, that in itself leads me to thinking.

One after the other, my own thoughts take shape in my mind, quicker then those around me. Most times I draw from others without even being conscious of it, everything and everyone is at my disposal. One after the other, small wisps of thought that are no reflection of how much I suffered to form them lead to others, everything that crosses my mind is linked in some way.

I have no escape from who I am. Better stated, who I'm forced to be.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I should've just cried. That's a safe assumption, right? If you're six years old and waiting for your mum who would never find you, you would cry, right?

I think over the last few days I ran out of tears. Even if I did manage to cry, I can't begin to cope with this empty feeling in my heart.

In my head, it's overflowing. But in my heart, there are many vacancies. There is nothing there. There's no therapist whose thoughts I can listen to that can give advice on this.

So, I just stared out the window and wondered why she gave up looking for me. Considering it makes me upset, but I couldn't help but wonder. I prayed that it isn't a loss of hope, we won't get anything done if we are both hopeless.

I wonder if mummy missed me still, or if she has gotten over me entirely. In any case, going home to her is the last and only thing I was hoping for.

Hope has since become an abstract concept to me. What does hoping for something ever help do to get it done? It's a useless feeling, and my new analytical mind saw the flaws in getting your hopes up. Still, like thought, that's another thing I couldn't stop - no matter how much I want to.

I want to look for flowers again and explore while my mummy stands right beside me, holding my hand. But as much as I fantasized, it didn't happen.

Instead, I'm being forced into traveling by someone who tortured me only days before. I felt hopelessness like a punch in the pit of my stomach. It's too early in my life to feel this way, but it's something I can't do anything to change.

I'm hopeless, but at the same time I'm unable to stop hoping. It doesn't matter how many times I'm let down by the sick reality of this twisted world, I still want to keep going. I guess that's a childish flame that I can not extinguish.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"How far away are we going?" I phrased my question oddly solely to throw him off and make it easier to fool him into an answer.

You will never come home. He thought immediately, before he could stop himself. He didn't know that place isn't open to me anymore. To me, it barely exists. It's hanging on a rusty hinge that is moments from irreparably breaking.

He's surprised about how emotionless I am in response, I don't owe him an explanation.

Still, I hoped his remark would make me more upset then it did. But I am, at every infliction of the word, lost. So young and already drained of my purpose, what a shame. That hurt more than being away from someone who doesn't want me.


	3. Boredom

I keep staring out the window at the rolling scenery. I try to busy myself, so I don't think. I'll settle and be content if it stays at a minimum, even though I want to stop my thoughts until I'm normal. I want to pause everything until I feel average and indistinguishable, that's when I can finally be at peace. I have a desperate desire to achieve an unoccupied, maybe even mundane state of mind.

Then I realized that is as easy as freezing time and stopping its progression forever.

I don't want this. I didn't ask for it to happen to me, so why act like I'm okay? It's no use, I'm not going to get anywhere by lying and saying that "I'm fine".

I felt like I was punched in the gut again. I have nothing I'm hoping for anymore. I'm constantly let down again and again, why should I keep trying?

No, I can't do that to myself. I have to try, to at least make an attempt to freely live my life. I can't get overwhelmed and stop pushing to get what I want. What I need, better said.

I just have to get away from Damian entirely, which is not even simple to fathom. Still, I can't begin to do that if I'm pessimistic. Hopeless is one thing, but dwelling on it instead of trying to make a plan to help myself is another.

"Let me tell you what I'm going to do to you, if you don't obey me," he started. I don't care enough to give him eye contact, I continued staring out the window.

"Stab me," I answered with a faraway tone in my voice. I had such a confidence to my unexpected answer, I threw him off. I anticipated as much. How often does a six year old challenge you to kill them? It's surprising, but it achieved what I wanted to get done.

"Coward." at this point, I'm trying not to laugh. He's so determined to figure out what sick game I'm playing with his mind this time, even though I'm not manipulating him. It plays to my advantage that's what he always thinks, but in reality I just want an excuse to be a little shit.

I've learned a plethora of curse words in the last few days, and deemed it appropriate to use one in this instance. I knew I shouldn't as I found out they were "bad words", but since I couldn't figure out what was bad about them, I use them anyway.

"Wh-never mind!" he exclaimed. Now, I actually did allow myself a laugh. It's so fun to be on top for once and have him know that he's inferior to me.

He understood how I have mental superiority, and how much I would do to get out of here. The latter isn't entirely true anymore, but I would still do anything to simply get away from him and be safe.

All the thoughts I could manage to put aside, it's good to laugh again. Actually, that's a massive understatement. It feels phenomenal to be happy enough to outwardly express it, even if it's happiness born out of spite.

But after about two seconds, that was replaced with thought once again. I apparently couldn't experience them together anymore, that perplexed me. Still, it wasn't a surprise.

I wondered at first why he didn't just give the ability to himself, and was shortly met with a variety of answers. The first being that he wants to have power over someone. He wants the feeling of treating people like his property, he gets a sick thrill out of hurting people. Little kids specifically, I figured.

The second but undoubtedly the most prominent, being that he couldn't put himself through that pain. And I understood, it hurts like hell. It's misery beyond description.

And the third is the cost to power ratio. If you pay so much (whether it's by money or other means) to get your hands on this force that can dominate huge masses as soon as you give it a host to manifest in, you would want it to gain as much power as it can. And if you do it to someone before their brain has fully developed, it can grow as large and as gripping as you allow it, without being hindered by structures already there. I see the logic to his abducting me, although that doesn't make it right. I'm weak and mostly undeveloped, which is the easiest scenario for him because I can't fight back.

Basically, he didn't want to destroy himself to gain something that would be of little use. I understood, even though I disagreed.

And, what's arguably the key thing to me getting out of here, is that he didn't plan on me figuring that out. He really does lack foresight regarding the consequences of his actions.

I figured him out completely. That's not suggesting that he doesn't terrify me, but I know why he does such awful things now.

Forget Damian, I'm scared of myself. My mind has gained a power that's too robotic and automatic now for my comfort.

Of course, I'm never going to let him know that I'm frightened. He's merely intimidating when he speaks, but he has the physical power to make his speech more daunting.

"I could kill you right now!" his voice quivered. He knows that I'm aware he's bluffing, he won't ever go through with it. At least, not while he still needs me. I'm too valuable to him, he's risked too much to get me to this point.

A few days ago, if we were in the same positions as we had been when this all started, I would've been much less stubborn about saying such insulting remarks about him out loud. But the fear that clouded my mind then has completely left me. I'm not worrying about any consequences now, I've got nothing to lose.

I'm strong, and getting more powerful.

I stopped my comparison to think. God, every time I do this to myself I only despise everything about this more. I stop thinking only to think about something else. Its almost like there isn't room for every idea to live to its full extent anymore, they are quickly shoved out of the way for new thoughts to take form.

I began to consider the things I have trouble doing and feeling. Because if I did only have "space" in my mind for thoughts, what would happen to my emotions?

There's an ever growing list that included hope, happiness, and now, caution. There's a slight difference between fear and caution, even though I'm alarmingly apathetic and insensitive to everything regardless.

I started to grow awfully worried that I'm becoming entirely emotionally detached and completely unfeeling. At first I thought I was being ridiculous, but the more I thought about it, the more correct I proved myself.

I should be, above all else, hoping to get out of here. But I'm not, instead I'm growing more accustomed to it all. I assume I don't even need to explain how tragic that is. In place of hopes, I have intense desires that I have a horrible drive to achieve.

Also, considering who my captor is and what he's done to me, I should be mortified. But, with the knowledge that he's not going to go through with killing me yet, I feel an unwelcome sense of immunity.

If I'm being honest, I wouldn't be able to describe what the feeling of joy is anymore. It's within reason not to feel happiness considering what I've been through, but how ephemeral my experience of content was once I was given a reason to be happy rightfully worried me. I should've fully experienced it, or even dwelled on it. I should've focused on the sensation of being completely absorbed by that feeling - just like I do with the treacherous ideas.

But instead of the list of these feelings, all I feel is sinister. An evil festers in the pit of my heart that I don't have the energy to fight.

 

He made me like this to manipulate people, that's my only goal. That's what he's reduced me to. Once I gained an obvious advantage on him, I focused on how great that corrupting action made me feel, and how well he deserved it. I'm merely his vessel, he set me up to carry out his most devilish plan through me.

As we traveled farther away from my mummy, my once deeply-rooted desire to return to her was left behind.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I never thought I would wish anymore pain on myself, but in this case, I have to. I must feel hurt for being away from mummy, even if it isn't mutual. I need to feel human, I need to think of myself as such. I am not a robot who's only purpose is to hurt people.

And if I break down and do it anyway, I can't enjoy it. I am not evil.

"I dare you." I urged him again, despite my recent resolution. Having control over him is too thrilling to me, I couldn't even stop and think about what I'm allowing myself to get into.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and took a shaky inhale.

He's scared of me.

I want him to fully understand the torment he's thrown me into. I want him to struggle just as I have. To scream but have no one hear to come to save you. But most of all, to writhe around in complete and total agony while suffocating pain follows you wherever you go-

STOP! My own mind shouted at me. Generally, the thoughts of my creation to discipline myself became smaller and softer than all the others, but luckily they echoed and silenced all the other voices for a glorious second. Or even two.

Seconds after that, my caution about what I'm going to make sure I never became disappeared and transformed into fury.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"C'mon," He looked in the mirror to see me scowling up at him.

What he did to me should've killed me. And upon realizing that, I'm so furious as to how he knows I could live past it. He doesn't know me, how did he know what my physical limits were?

"I have nothing to lose." I paused after every word and grit my teeth.

He has taken my life and replaced it with an empty shell of who I once was. I became riddled with awful feelings as he stole my joy. I only felt more alone as he isolated me from any form of help.

Not that I want his assistance or comfort. I just - maybe if I shouted loudly enough, my mummy would come find me. She wouldn't have given up in the first place.

I couldn't help but start crying. I have become acquainted with depression to a level way beyond my years. Now I don't feel sad, I just know I am. I should be thankful for that knowledge, because that's more insight than I have with my other emotions.

Damian smirked again, I'm actually relieved. I have no power over him anymore, it's definitely for the best.

I wrapped my grotesque arms around my inflamed waist and stared out the window again, focusing on how free the landscape tricked me into feeling. I over exaggerated every emotion as an attempt to convince myself that I could indeed feel, even though I knew the grim reality. I buried my sorrows in the billowing clouds above me.

Apparently, I shouldn't do that. Because just as I tried to, they disappeared behind the concrete.

The car stopped, and the engine fell into a state of inactivity.

Damian got out of his car, and I sat for a few seconds to comprehend what's going on.

I have to stop feeling, and start thinking. There's no time to feel when I have less than no time to think of a plan.

I have no clue where I am, and I couldn't pick it up from the people around me. Everyone's voice is muted in my mind, they're all too preoccupied to even think.

What could I do but follow him?


	4. Exhaustion

When it comes to daily life, my ability doesn't help me much. Surprisingly, everyone around me isn't thinking about what they're doing, or why they're traveling. I'm sure my reason is different than everyone elses.

So, I'm coming to terms with being completely clueless. I can't tell if that's better or worse than knowing everything. My head still hurts, but it's filled with useless thoughts instead of intelligent ones.

While we waited in line I was given plenty of time to dwell on and be quite jealous of the fact that everyone is mindless except me. I want filler thoughts, I want to be able to stare off into space without getting myself pulled into tangents that last hours on end. Because of the lack of intelligent people around me, I've resorted to having arguments with myself. I always have to be doing something, and I just desperately want a few minutes to rest.

It's a cruel irony that even when people don't think, I still feel pain. It's a very crowded terminal, but it's dull. Like ringing a big huge bell, where you can feel the vibrations from your feet and as they reverberate through your body, you realize that you have a massive headache.

I did pick up words from what people thought. But, all I drew from that is how to use them, they didn't give me much context to figure out where I am. I guess I shouldn't care that much, there's nothing I can do about it. But still, wondering where I am gave me something constructive to do.

"Have you ever been flying?" a lady in uniform questioned as I reached the end of the line.

She isn't thinking anything to give me clues about what she's asking, either. Flying is what birds do, why is she asking me about this?

She kneeled down to repeat her question, and apparently I don't look quite confused enough for her to clarify.

She looked me over, and started thinking about the scars on my face. She glanced down and saw the burns as well, and her eyes widened in surprise. She turned her gaze back to me, and expected that I would explain. Somehow, she didn't piece together that this is child abuse. She saw a suspicious adult pushing me along, and she didn't think to figure he hurt me. She saw how terrified I am of him, and she didn't immediately call security to take him away and arrest him. Well, that last part is more of a fantasy of mine.

"...holding up the line," I looked over and quietly remarked to Damian. I never thought I would move to get something done through him, but his height makes him a person to listen to.

"Right!" the lady walked over to her desk and gave me a ticket with my name on it.

The lady in uniform pat me on the back and wished me goodbye, and I tried my hardest to stay silent until it stopped hurting. My skin is still extremely tender, and any touch makes it feel like fire all over again.

We waited through another line, it took a patience I almost didn't have. When we reached the end, we gave our tickets to another lady waiting at a pedestal.

Next, we were directed over to what I know is security, but that's all I knew. Damian silently threatened me that if I don't listen to him and follow him closely, he will stab me.

I know he's bluffing, but I don't want to risk it in any way.

First, I was directed to take everything out of my pockets and put it in a tiny plastic bin that's on the table next to me. There isn't anything in my pockets I'm positive, but I complied and checked anyway.

Next, I was instructed to take off any metal things I have and put them in the same basket. I had no metal things to wear, but I looked myself over for them anyway.

Lastly, I was told to take off my shoes and put them in the bin. They aren't necessarily ratty, per se, but they're worn enough to turn heads. In all fairness, they went through the acid bath as I did.

No one thought of anything in advance, so I have no idea what I'm supposed to do next.

This area is being ran by two very tall and strong men, they intimidated me too much to ask them.

"Can you walk through that grey arch for us please?" one asked me, he has a very deep voice.

I nodded and started moving. After a few seconds it made a high pitch beeping noise, and I gasped and covered my ears.

"That's just the sound it makes when it's all done, you're not in trouble," the security guard assured me as he helped me out of the scanner and pat me down.

He then kneeled down and tried to comfort me as they allowed Damian through. He apologized to me as he saw the knife and explained how if they do anything, everyone's life will be in danger, especially mine. He apologized profusely as he quietly continued to list why they can't do anything to stop him, and then went on to talk about how strong I am while hugging me.

I did my best to reach around his shoulders to hug him back. It felt like it set my skin aflame, but the feeling I got was too warm and nice to let the pain stop it.

It was merely a mild and short sense of contentment, but it was happiness nonetheless. And if this last week of "events" has taught me anything, it's to treasure every feeling, everything that could remind me of who I really am. I'm more than my fucked up head.

I turned all my attention to what my body is doing instead of validating every move with a long winded explanation offered by my own mind.

"Here, why don't you get your shoes on," he proposed, and got them out of the bin and handed them to me. I didn't even know I was doing this at the time, but I used his shoulder for balance. He helped me re tie them, and I thanked him.

"I wish you the best of luck. We'll stop him soon," he whispered as he let me go, and I nodded.

Promise. He thought, but didn't dare say.

That would've filled me with hope, but the term "soon" is so entirely relative. The enjoyment I would've gotten in the finality of him vocalizing his last thought was non existent, he didn't risk entitling me to something so outlandish.

Still, I want to experience the feeling of hope, which is an emotion that's lost to me. But after being happy for a few seconds, I shouldn't be wishing for too much else to happen in my favor. 

We waited once again in an area with rows of seats. I welcomed myself to a seat in the corner so I could look out the window.

The word "airplane" bounced around in my head a few times, but I don't know what that word means. I could assume what's going on, but the pieces didn't quite fit together.

There's a door some other ladies in uniforms are standing by, and a pedestal one leaned on while they talked.

Damian got up to leave, and didn't demand that I follow him.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair just a bit, feeling a vague sense of freedom I haven't anytime prior.

I focused on the ground instead of meeting the gaze of the people that are staring at me. They quickly averted their eyes, but I know they can't stop staring at my wounded face. I feel like a fool for thinking I can ever be average, when physically I look anything but.

Damian came back and silently offered me a water bottle. It's sealed, but I have a right not to trust him. I shook my head, and he rolled his eyes and set it down near me.

 

When we were called to board the plane, I was told to go with the people that need medical attention throughout the flight. I couldn't figure out why, my company has much more pressing matters imposed on them than I do.

I can at least handle myself, the people around me need the flight attendants help.

But still, I listened to what the ladies in uniform have to say and went where they told me to go.

With everything that has happened, I forgot what I look like. I can remind myself very quickly, but it constantly slips my mind as I'm wondering why I have to look so far upwards to see the other adults faces. This moment is no exception, once again I was made aware of my status as they kneeled down to face me.

On the plane, I felt the same as when Damian was getting water. I don't want to think about how near I am in proximity to him, all I want to focus on is that he isn't next to me. And if he tries to get here, he will be stopped.

I decided to sleep the rest of the ride. I'm always so terrified Damian would do something while I rested, so after two nights of fitful sleep I haven't gotten any after that.

It would've been harder had I not been so exhausted. After a remarkable time of merely five minutes of trying, the voices in my head dropped off not to the point of ceasing existence, but to be so soft I could ignore them while I slipped out of consciousness.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

When we were led off the plane, everything was in a foreign language.

He took me to Paris, which explains why everyone is speaking French. In mere seconds my mind began to force itself to learn the language.

I could tell that Damian knows only a few phrases, all of which are demanding and quite rude. He ran through the pronunciation in his head as he brushed up on them.

By some stroke of luck that's in my favor, he let me sit down while all the knowledge rushed into my brain. I gripped the arm of the chair to keep myself quiet, still aware of what he could do to me if I shouted for help.

I rest my forehead in the palm of my other hand while I gained all the information around me against my will. My head throbbed as entire dictionaries and every in-and-out of this new language was forcibly becoming an ability of mine. It destroyed everything it needed to make it a reality.

Most of the memories that are being demolished are of my mummy. I feel her fading away from me as each new phrase of this language comes into my mind. It's devastating to me, and I can't do anything about it.

I want to cry, but I don't have the mental capacity to. I can't feel anything but a distant sense of longing, and that makes my heart ache.

I want to find her, even if she won't do the same for me. I need to feel safe in her arms again, to be protected and happy. But she's slipping through my fingers, to the point where I couldn't describe her features if I'm asked to.

I gripped the arm of the chair tighter, the worst is yet to come.

My head spun as I tried to regulate my breathing. I feel exhausted from the intense onslaught of knowledge, it's like my two hour nap only twenty minutes before didn't even happen.

I only allowed myself one more view at what I'm so close to forgetting. The memory of her hangs by a frayed thread, one more intrusive thought and it will shatter.

Goodbye mummy. I'll truly miss you, no matter what I try to tell myself.


	5. Help

I made an effort to keep words and phrases I'll need to use in the front of my mind. Remarks that are all along the lines of begging people to help me, and to be quick in doing it.

"Where are you taking me?" I looked up to ask him. It got lost in the other noise and business so it couldn't be picked up by someone else if they wanted to eavesdrop. Despite the noise, he heard and answered my question.

"You don't need to know that." he growled. I stayed silent to avoid angering him again, if he hurts me anymore I might as well be dead.

I expected that he would think about it, but he never did. He just reacted, which I cannot tell ahead of time.

I tried to think of a plan, but too much is going on for me to focus. My options are being limited by the second, and eventually all I could do is helplessly follow him.

After getting out of the airport, we rode in a car. A SUV specifically, but not for a distance or amount of time that's worth paying attention to. Still, I want to think of ways to occupy my time. 

I tried sleeping for a few more minutes, but everything of mine hurts too much. I spoke at the cost of the cuts on my face pulling and threatening to bleed once again. To make matters worse, the friction between my clothes and the seat hurt the areas on my skin that were burned. Which is everywhere but my face and a bit of my neck. Of course, it's not like I don't have injuries there as well. That's where he brought his knife, to gain precision and intensity with what he had done.

Not to mention the tremendous migraine that's like a thunderstorm raging on in my head.

The car stopped suddenly again. Damian got out immediately and sped walked in the ornate building ahead of me. I tried to follow him so he wouldn't get mad and hurt me, but my shirt got caught in the seat buckle.

After a few minutes of trying, I freed myself and reached for the door.

But, someone opened it for me. A man in a badge and suit smiled at me and reached his hand out to help me to the ground.

I thanked him in French, and he chuckled. He sounds like Mark, what I remember of him that is. I probably don't recall correctly, I'm remembering things how I want, and that's a dangerous technique to adopt.

"Louis your pronunciation is exemplary, but you can converse in your first language to me if that's what's easiest for you," he told me with that same smile on his face he used to welcome me.

"I don't trust you," I muttered as I quickly looked him up and down. He didn't seem deterred, he carried himself as if he ignored what I said.

"I'm Robert, I'll be by your side through your whole experience here." he shook my hand. I bit my bottom lip to avoid shouting at the pain he just ensued, but I only made it worse for myself. That's the intersection of where Damian wounded me, the knife dragged through it twice. It barely took any kind of pressure to draw blood.

I hid it from his view by sucking my thumb, which is something other six year old kids tend to do. Because of my distrust for him, I had to think of a normal way to hide the fact that he injured me. I don't know if he has a lust to make other people suffer, so I would rather be safe and hide my wound from him.

"Louis. As you've mentioned before." he marveled at my manners.

He led me into a conference room, and tried to hold my hand a few times. I shook him off, I don't want him to touch me anymore than he already has. 

The people in the room all stood up to greet me when I stepped in.

Except Damian, who is sitting front and center at the oval table.

Once every body settled down, he began his spiel about how I will be a massive benefit in English, and then paused after every sentence as the translator retold it in French.

For some reason, their thoughts to me after I learned the entirety of the language translated to English in my head. So they thought in English to me, even though I knew that isn't the reality.

I finally figured out what he's doing with me. He's shoving me off so I can help the military here predict what other countries will do, so France can peacefully combat any threat before it arises.

But, in the company of these people, I don't even mind. They treat me better than Damian does. It's not like I have anywhere to be, any place I could possibly fit in is good. Anywhere I'm needed is fine with me.

While Damian talked, the man that led me in here got my attention. I remembered his name is Robert as he tapped my shoulder.

"Hey, let's go have a chat, okay?" he whispered, and I obeyed. I don't want to face the consequences for defying him. 

From listening to his thoughts for just a moment, I gathered that we were talking - in the interrogation room. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I checked him again for concealed weapons.

"You're not in trouble, it's just the only free room at the moment," He explained as he held the door open and ushered me in. I didn't sigh in relief, he could very well be lying.

I sat down in the cold metal chair, and waited for him to do something. I prepared myself for the absolute worst, which would be to send me back to Damian. But he didn't drag me out of the room, he let me sit.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked. Literally he asked if I have thirst, but I understood what he was getting at so I didn't correct him.

I nodded, and he turned around to the water cooler behind him to fill two Dixie cups with water. If he has malicious intents like poisoning me, he isn't thinking about it. It's a safe bet that it's pure water.

He put it on the space in front of me, and I thanked him. After he took a sip, I drank it.

I didn't take sips or anything, I'm too dehydrated. It's such a small amount I couldn't lose myself in it and make comparisons between that and the bath, so I downed it in one gulp.

"I want to notify you of the plan. It's not set in stone yet, so if you disagree with something I'll try my best to change it." he smiled, and I nodded so he could elaborate. He spoke oddly, but I don't have the energy to comment.

"So, I ran it by child protective services, and they said my home is safe and comfortable to house another child. I wasn't told an end date as of yet, so just for the foreseeable future I assume. You would share a room with my son, and after two weeks to acclimate, you'll come to work with me," he explained. I nodded, but not as an admission of my agreement. I liked the general idea, but I'm too hung up on his first sentence to pay much attention to the rest of it.

At first, I was outraged. I wouldn't hurt anyone, and I was frustrated that Robert thought otherwise. But then, my memories of how menacing I was to Damian when I got the chance just a few hours earlier placated my anger into understanding.

I shook my head and focused on what was going on now, I didn't want him to ask me what's wrong. My resolution to pay attention lasted about thirteen seconds, my razor sharp focus began to blur into contemplation almost instantly.

I want to know about his son. All I need is his name, really. Then, I can pay special attention to what he thought, and therefore get a sense of what he's like.

"Um, regarding Aaron I would wait until he does something, and wait on the sidelines a bit while he gets used to you. He's a very friendly, excitable, and talkative person don't get me wrong, but he might do something sudden that might, uh... frighten you." I got it. He was nervous to tell me, but I already knew. Aaron has severe dyslexia, and when he gets frustrated about it he acts out.

"Understood," I mumbled. I'm not going to test my limits being informal to him, even if he is to me. I didn't need Damian hearing about it through the grapevine and then hurting me.

"Through the grapevine" is one of the more interesting phrases I've picked up.

"Aaron sounds very nice." Robert breathed a sigh of relief. It's like he's waiting to hear what I think about him, like he's afraid that I would hate the idea of his son. But who am I to judge people solely based on their mind?

"He is very excited to share a room." he laughed, and I nodded.

"Likewise," I lied quietly.

"So, before I can introduce you two, we need to do some paper work." he sighed, but I nodded. I'm not ecstatic about the work aspect of it obviously, but every second I'm away from Damian is automatically a pleasant one.

I figured out why I could work even though I'm so young. It's because "I'm not a normal child, so I don't have to follow normal child labour laws". I had a similar idea that was merely in its infancy, but then Robert confirmed my theory. From that I concluded that if he's not violent, then he's a coward. He has the power to help me, and yet he keeps his mouth shut.

Robert is oblivious to the fact that I'm barely listening to him. Except for a few trigger words, I'm completely tuning out.

"It's kind of like the 'get to know you' worksheets they do in school at the beginning of the year," he explained as he opened up a binder.

School. I swear that term is familiar...

I have a vague and quickly fading memory of school. The building and it's interior was very colorful. I had friends, people I could laugh with. Best of all, at the level I was in, they didn't expect much from you.

And now, only a few months later, I'm living the polar opposite. The world is resting on my shoulders, and the burden is heavy. 

Louis? Robert thought. I have to force myself to focus.

"Do you want to fill this out yourself, or have me do it?" he asked.

"I'll tell you," I mumbled. It will hurt less to write it down. I had practiced penmanship, but my memory of it is fading quickly. I can learn from whoever I please, but it's in the application when I falter.

"Okay. Uh, I'm not sure exactly how to say this." he laughed once, even though I can't imagine what could possibly be humorous. Luckily, I'm not waiting on him to vocalize his thought to know what he wants to say. Still, I did him the undeserved courtesy of waiting for him to finish.

"How powerful are you? Like, I guess how many people's minds can you read?" he asked.

It's increasing without an end, it's not like I could give him a reliable answer.

"Over a billion," I mumbled, and he gasped.

"Is it systematic?" he asked, I shrugged.

"It's whoever is closest to me, and it extends in a circle." I just realized why they gave me such a long time to assimilate. They want me to increase my range. I'm not even sure if they wanted to give me time to get used to everything at all, they just need to benefit themselves.

I feel dirty, exactly like the feeling of being used-they don't care about me or my health.

Or, what's worse, is if they do. Then they'll get attached, and be bitterly upset when they realize what I've always known. My destiny, I guess. I'm not going to live a full life, I've already gotten over that fact. But I can't drag other people down while they attempt to cope with it.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

After a few more questions, I got in the backseat of Robert's car as he began driving. It wasn't a Ferrari or anything, but it's better than average. Must be all the money he gets from harboring kidnapped children.

"So, Damian was taking care of you before, right?" he looked in the rear view mirror as he asked me. I snorted in response, that couldn't be father from the truth.

"Yeah, such an angel," I remarked sarcastically.

"Would he know if you needed any medication?"

Damian didn't care enough to look into things like medication, especially because he inflicted the injuries. I thought Robert knew that, but he thinks Damian was "taking care of me". Stubborn, oblivious, idiotic bastard.

"Medicine for my skin would be nice, but it's okay." I don't want him going through the hassle.

"It's no trouble! It's on the way, and I need to pick up some Melatonin for Aaron," he said. Naturally, he started thinking about what the innocuous drug did, and why his son needs it.

Turns out, Aaron talks himself to sleep. It goes on for hours sometimes, and he loses a significant amount of sleep because of it. So, the Melatonin will help him get a few more valuable hours of rest.


	6. Hello

I turned heads at the pharmacy. Being extraordinary has now become regular for me, so I like to tell myself that people staring at me is normal too.

Crowds parted as parents made distinct moves to turn their mildly ill children away from me. They keep trying to disguise what they're doing, but in the near silence my face had ensued, it's one of the simplest things I've figured out.

"Burn, or s- cut?" why did he stop himself from saying scar? Technically they aren't quite yet, but it's quite easy to tell that they would become them in the near future. 

"B-both," I answered shamefully. Why did I feel embarrassed about it? I wish I have the focus to figure out an answer, but instead I looked to Robert getting two small bottles off the shelf.

I wanted to tell him that I was completely immersed in the acid that burned my skin, and I would need an entire second canister to cover the areas that he could not see. They matched or were worse than the visible burns, but he doesn't know that. And I would like to keep it that way until I'm positive he's not luring me into a false sense of security. Maybe if he knows how badly I'm hurt, he'll want to make it worse. Either way, I didn't focus on my irrational fear because there's no point. 

Also, his focus should be on Aaron, not me. 

Robert stopped for a second and looked me over. 

He's thinking about it. As sure as skin continues below the sleeve, he figured it out. 

Without me saying a word to him, he got a second canister of the medication, and then switched both, whose labels read for mild burns for two that are for severe burns.

"Th-thank you," I stammered. 

"It's no problem." he smiled, but his eyes didn't have any joy in them. His eyelids sagged as he sighed, and paraded the drugs down the aisle. 

"I checked with his pediatrician too, she said it wouldn't be adverse to his health in the slightest. Non addictive, non habit forming, etc. What's best, is when he finishes the bottle, his body will be used to the earlier sleep schedule." I just let him ramble. I guessed that whenever he wanted to talk about something positive with Aaron outside of my company, other parents derailed anything he had to say with their kids seemingly larger achievements.

"Whatever helps him be healthy, I agree." I said, and he practically skipped in happiness while he got the bottle of Melatonin. 

The cashier stared at me as we went up to the desk. 

They raised a finger and opened their mouth to ask me about it, but shut it slowly. I didn't encourage them to ask their question, I stayed silent. 

As we walked out of the store, Robert held the bag in his left hand and offered to hold my hand in his right. I thought about the consequences for thirteen seconds, and concluded that it was safer walking alone. He doesn't have any power over me if I'm not near him.

"Do you mind if we make one more stop? It's on our way, it's the Doggy Day Care?" He asked, and I nodded. 

"Yeah of course," I said, even though I don't want to go. I didn't want to be alone with him anymore.

 

He has a dog, I can deal with a dog. I can't register a different species thoughts, it's okay. Dogs are loud and hairy, but it's fine.

Just as he pulled into a parking spot, his phone started ringing. 

He finished his parking job, then answered it. It's a video call, I got that as he held the phone up to his face. 

"Hey bud!" he smiled as Aaron waved. 

"Hi daddy!" Aaron chirped. He shifted on the couch before asking another question.

"When are you coming home?" he asked. 

"Um, I'm out getting some things, I'll probably be twenty minutes. Have your room cleaned by when I come back, okay?" 

"Okay, lo-o-ove you." he blew a kiss at the camera, and Robert did the same. 

"See you soon!" Robert smiled, and Aaron smiled as wide as he could in response before he hung up.

"He doesn't like regular calling," Robert remarked, still grinning at the sight and sound of his son being so happy. 

"I think it's because of you, he's been this excited ever since I told him you would be coming," Robert said as he opened the door for me. 

"Oh," I remarked quietly, I didn't know what else to say or how to respond. I'm really not anything special, I have no personality. My only attribute is that I have this wretched ability, there is nothing else unique about me.

I expected that once we walked inside we would be bombarded with noise. Instead, we walked into a calm and orderly room with a receptionist front and center. 

He told her his information with a smile. The joy is contagious, without knowing it he led her to start smiling as well. That stupid little action made me feel isolated, dammit. Other people's joy makes me want to cry.

"Okay, you can go through the door in the left and we'll get her for you." she gestured to the door, and Robert nodded. He thanked her and wished her a good day, and after smiling as she did the same, we went through the door.

The desk was tall enough that she didn't even see me.

"This is Aaron's dog, she just stays here while I'm at work because I'm not sure what'll happen when I'm not there," he explained as he held the door open for me, and I nodded. 

"Does the dog spend time in his room a lot?" I wondered. 

"She sits in his lap while he's doing homework, yeah. Why, will that be a problem?" he asked. 

"The noise-combined with everything else, uh, in my head- it would be too much for me to handle," I admitted. 

"Oh! Him too actually, she's very quiet. And when she does bark, Aaron puts her in her bed and she plays with her toys, so that stops it," He disregarded my remark.

 

We walked to the car, and Robert put Aaron's dog in the trunk. There's a laundry bin with plastic so aged its colors are faded, and it's filled with ratty (but clean) blankets that I guess she tore up to occupy herself on long rides. 

"Alright, we're going home now, promise." he laughed as he started the car. 

It was a short ride home. Everything is so close you could practically walk anywhere you need to go. Not to mention the considerably small commute he has to work. 

Or, more accurately, we have. I'm not against the concept, but the idea of it makes me shudder for some reason. It makes me feel strange.

Aaron ran out, and jumped up to hug Robert. He responded by hugging him in return and standing up, lifting Aaron off the ground. He spun around in a half circle, and set him down once he finished laughing about it. 

The best I could do to join in the smiles is a grimace.

"Son, you're not wearing any shoes!" Robert grumbled. Aaron apologized, then sat on his fathers thigh as he is kneeled down to enable that. He kicked his feet slowly, and wrapped his arm around Robert's neck for support. 

"My teacher said to 'ask your dad to talk to me'," he quoted exactly, even though he was going off topic.

"Ms. Carol?" Robert asked, Aaron nodded. He bobs his head up and down, when I nod I tip my head forward as much as I can tolerate.

"Alright, I'll call her as soon as I can," Robert said. 

Robert seemed to just now acknowledge my presence, I guess in the excitement of seeing Aaron he forgot I'm here. 

"Is your room all clean?" Robert asked. Aaron was beaming as he nodded. 

"Alright, you guys can go on in." he helped Aaron off his leg, and straightened up. He pushed my back closer to where Aaron stood. He might've meant to be gentle, but it didn't feel like it.

Aaron's mind exploded with thoughts at the sight of me, in a different sensation than normal. When I'm far away from him, there's the same dull pain as I feel with everyone. But being close to him is invigorating. Wisps of vibrant color bloomed like flowers in the spring time. They whirled around as if the gentle summer winds were carrying them through the sky. After he wasn't thinking about it any longer, they settled and colored the dull landscape like a mosaic. 

Instead of vocalizing how excited he is, he just held my hand and led me in the house.

He stopped, taking a sharp inhale. He used my shoulder as balance to lift his foot up to examine it. The sensitive arch of his foot made contact with the rock below it the wrong way. But, since it wasn't for a long time and it wasn't a large rock, there was no cut or bruise. Just a reddening, swollen bump. 

After about twenty seconds of staring at it he shook it off, and skipped in the house. Robert came up behind him to hold the door open for me, even though I could've opened it myself. Aaron just forgot the little things in his excitement, he practically jumped in the living room as soon as he saw his dog. 

"Emma!" he squealed happily, and kneeled down to pet and kiss his dog. The excitement in the pair is mutual, I could easily tell.

Robert took a picture of Aaron. As he put his phone down and looked to me, he saw me staring. 

He silently brought his finger up to his lips. He doesn't like when he knows pictures are taken. He thought.

Aaron looked up at us, still petting Emma.

"Huh?" he jerked his head between us, looking like he missed something someone said. 

"Why don't you show Louis your room? Help him get settled," Robert suggested. He spoke like I was in a hotel with people waiting on me hand and foot. 

Aaron shivered, it isn't even cold. 

He gestured me in his room, and hummed to himself as I looked around. 

There are two neatly made twin beds with only a night stand separating them. I couldn't tell which one is his, and he isn't thinking about it.

Tucked under his bed, Aaron has bins of various toys of his, sorted into colours. There 's one box for every colour of the rainbow, neatly stowed away.

"Which bed do you want?" he asked me. 

I didn't answer immediately, mainly because I don't care either way. But, I didn't want to accidentally pick the bed he sleeps in and make him feel forced to switch. 

Instead, I looked around his room some more. He didn't seem to mind, he went to a bookcase he has and started organizing the books by shape and size. 

I don't know why he has so many books, Robert said that reading frustrates him. 

As he looked at the books, his thoughts in my mind dulled in color. Ever so subtly, a bit of the vibrancy washed out of them. 

He finally flopped down on his bed, then I knew which one I could lie in. 

I took a breath as I tried to relax. I could feel the warmth from the sun through the slats in the blinds. Only the sound of the ceiling fan and a lawnmower revving up outside is audible. I heard Robert thinking about how he is mowing the lawn so we can play in it tomorrow, he has no idea that I prefer staying inside. I know when I'm in a closed off space that I am safe.

Emma ran into his room a couple minutes later. Aaron didn't notice for a few seconds, because Emma doesn't bark and isn't strong enough to jump onto his bed. 

He looked to the floor eventually, to investigate the tapping sound against his bed frame that is Emma patiently wagging her tail. 

He lifted her up on his bed, and petted her a bit before she walked down the length of the mattress and curled up to take a nap on the blanket between his outstretched legs. 

"Daddy says we should rest a little before dinner time," he clarified as he stretched, then closed his eyes.

I stared at the ceiling for about a half an hour. As much as I tried, not even a tiny naps amount of sleep would come to me. 

I shifted a few times as an attempt to get comfortable, but that hurt me horribly. It's like my tender skin is being ground against steel wool.

I definitely didn't sleep. I did hear Aaron talking to himself as he tried to get some rest. It wasn't anything excessive or noisy, just short, quiet murmurs that were said slowly in the delivery and constant in their frequency. 

After about thirty minutes, I heard the lawnmower cut off. I heard the door open and shut, Robert's shoes making contact with the stairs, and him walking through the hallway.


	7. Not lonely

Aaron woke up, rolled over, and sighed. Emma has since gotten up off his bed, and is now in the corner sleeping in her own.

     His hair is tousled, and he didn't care to pat it down or get it orderly at all.

I'm glad you're here He thought. He yawned and stretched without sitting up, then turned to face me. I stared at him blankly as he closed his eyes again, contemplating if I should even answer him when he didn't say anything out loud. I didn't know how much Robert has told him about me, or if he has said anything to Aaron at all. My best guess is that he's completely left in the dark about anything concerning me, because if he knew he surely wouldn't want to be around me anymore.

Aaron sleeps with his mouth open, so drool started dripping onto his sheets. He also snores a bit, but not enough to annoy me. It's basically absurdly loud breathing-better to hear him breathing than the alternative. Besides, it's not like I'm trying to get to sleep, I can't be angry with him for breaking my staring contests with the ceiling. 

Twenty minutes after I heard him come upstairs, Robert knocked on the door. He spent the twenty minute gap between the two actions looking through his email, and based on what he thought I guessed that it's about what to do with me.

"What's the dinner idea?" Aaron sat up and inquired as Robert walked in. Either he wasn't asleep after the second time he closed his eyes, or he's such a light sleeper that the sound of the door opening woke him up. I have to figure it out, but it's not of great importance right now.

"Hm..." he tapped his chin as he thought. Aaron hopped off his bed and walked up to Robert as he kneeled down to hold him.

"What, about, mini pizzas!" he suggested in a tone to get Aaron excited. Robert bounced him on his knee a couple of times, and Aaron exclaimed in glee.

Emma sensed the energy and got up, wagging her tail while she ran up to Aaron.

Aaron pet her until she was satisfied, then skipped up to me and grabbed my hand. He pulled me off the bed to go downstairs to the kitchen.

     I winced, and screwed my eyes shut to avoid shouting at the damage he has just done. Every time someone touches me, they prolong my recovery time. And he just set me back at least a month, and I can't even tell him so.

"What kinds of foods do you like on pizza?" he asked me as he swung the fridge door open.

Aaron says exactly what he thinks, it makes things less complicated. I do hear it twice, but there's decoding I have to do with other people when their thoughts are wildly different then what they say. With Aaron, I don't have to focus.

I shrugged, and he got out some foods. The fact that he showed them to me makes no difference if I know them or not, I can't remember them just by seeing the packaging. 

"These taste good on pizzas," he explained as he put the things he's holding on the table. He shut the fridge, and pulled up his sleeves as he walked over to the sink. 

He turned on the water, then dragged up a stool to wash his hands. I waited behind him, even though I know I won't be touching the food. I need to force myself to re-learn all the simple tasks like this, even though I can't imagine how much it's going to hurt. The water doesn't come out of the faucet slowly or gently, it's going to be an awful experience.

I took a deep breath. This isn't the same thing Damian melted my skin with. Even though it is clear, and has the same consistency...

No. I have to deal with it. I had to suck it up and handle it, just like I've done with everything else so far. 

Aaron dried his hands off, and I moved out of his way. I stepped up to the sink as he shuffled to the oven. I watched him drag up another stool for a height advantage, and lean over the dormant stove top. After I gathered the courage and turned to wash my hands, I heard beeping as he started pressing buttons.

I took another deep breath, and moved my hands under what I am in the process of convincing myself is definitely not the acid that ruined my life. Better said, what ruined my opportunity at happiness. It's Damian himself who ruined my life. 

      The water seeped in the cracks of my broken skin, and burned almost as badly as the bath did. I gasped as the air felt like it was being sucked out of my lungs from such sudden pain.

"Daddy!" Aaron called to Robert. 

I heard footsteps quickly descending the stairs as I turned the water off and dried my hands. I had to carefully pat the towel against my fingers instead of rubbing it. Friction is the devil to me.

"How much does the oven go to?" Aaron phrased the question weirdly, but Robert knew what he meant.

"Three." Robert took a short break in what he was saying while Aaron tried to find the right button. It took him about ten seconds for him to guess, after that he had to be corrected. He confused a three for an eight. 

"Five." Aaron thought he had it immediately, but he mixed up the numbers again. This time was minor, he nearly pressed a six instead of a five. Ten degrees wouldn't be a catastrophic mistake, but it will result it burned pizza. And that's disastrous only depending on who is considering it.

"Zero," Robert finished, and congratulated Aaron when he got it right on the first try. I sat down, I decided to move myself out of the way of things. I didn't want to be mear the heat of the oven when it went on, and I didn't want to stand by Robert either. 

"Okay and while that preheats I want you to change your shirt, you can make your pizza after. The stove top is filthy and I don't want that getting in your food," Robert said. After five seconds passed for Aaron to process the information, he nodded in understanding. 

He hopped off the stool and pranced up the stairs. Earlier I planned to distance myself from Robert, but now I feel delighted at the opportunity that just presented itself.

"Can I ask you something relating to your-our work?" I had to correct myself, I'm still not used to the concept. 

I had Roberts attention immediately, and I took a breath before speaking. 

"If your entire facility knows the extent of what happened to me, why didn't you arrest him for child abuse?" that question has been bothering me ever since they treated him like he was merely giving a presentation about someone he was "taking care of", not selling a kid he recently tortured. No one thought about why, they went through with it like it's nothing. He performed a life changing alteration to my mind, amoung other things. Also, a crucial thing to add is all of this is against my will. Yes I did shake his hand, but he used my fear of the situation to take advantage of me.

"Well arresting him wouldn't be our place. And if we referred his case to the police, he would only torture more children, devastating more families. Because our hands are tied to stop him, we figured we could subdue him by going through with his proposal, and just take the best care of you in the process." he hated what he just said, I could see it in his eyes. Most of the time, I can't feel most emotions powerfully enough to depict what someone else is feeling. But, hate is an exception. That's the one thing I'm always sure of, one thing that I damn well know I'm always feeling. 

I squared my shoulders, and looked him in the eyes.

"My head hurts." I saw his face fall into a state of despair as that's my choice response above anything else.

I drew in a slow breath, I felt that devilishness again in the pit of my heart. It's a rush of adrenaline that feels exclusive to me when I've truly manipulated someone, the only thing I feel when I've taken advantage of someones good qualities to give myself the upper hand. I know it's wrong, I kept telling myself exactly that. 

But, the look on his face is too fabulously helpless to stop. The feeling in the moment is revitalizing, too easily mistaken for happiness. 

I wasn't smiling, I just raised my head and looked him in the eyes. Every bit of my story is projected on my skin, that will never change. I want him to know that I'm going to be like this forever. This will always be my life, there's nothing he can do. 

Still I stared, and forced him to understand the torment I've gone through to save just a few lives. They could stop him forever if one more person goes through what I have. But they refuse, choosing to hurt more people, just one at a time. 

Their idiocy pissed me off. They would save billions, but they refuse. So long as I'm like this, they're safe from harm done by him. In any other case they're at risk, and they certainly don't want to be where I am now. 

I finally averted my eyes as tears started to well up in them. Coincidentally, that's when Aaron came galloping down the stairs as well. 

"Bud, that's a church shirt," Robert said upon seeing his son in a pristine white button down. 

"I wanna wear it." Aaron pouted. After my recent encounter with Robert he is in no place to object to anyone. I raised an eyebrow at his submission to a six year old, it's quite a sight. 

Aaron stopped what he was doing when he heard Robert's phone ring. 

"Do you think you guys can handle making your pizzas while I take this?" Robert asked us, and Aaron nodded.

Robert sped out of the room, and Aaron got out a jar of tomato sauce. 

"Do you like tomatoes?" he asked. He kept trying to asses what I want on my pizza after I told him I didn't know. 

"I don't know what they taste like." I shrugged. To make room for every thought, my memory of things that happened a long time ago are completely gone. 

"Okay so what about if we just cover a little bit with the red sauce?" Aaron suggested, and I nodded.

Even though my hands are in no position to be doing any kind of work, I bit my tongue to avoid crying out in pain as the burns reignited when I flinched my fingers.

"Huh?" Aaron looked up at me, he thought I said something he missed out on. 

"I didn't say anything," I explained, and he nodded. 

"Okay," he whispered quickly. I ascribed the sudden change of tone to how-as Robert sugarcoated it, "special he is". Aaron is unique, but he's going to find out about himself sooner or later. 

Soon, everything in his mind will click. Everything will start making sense, and I'm sure the color in his thoughts will disappear in the process. Aaron is very smart, and once he gets past this minuscule barrier imposed on him, he will truly be unstoppable. 

I would not want to be Robert when that happens. It's unlikely but very possible that Aaron will be pissed off, and that's never something you want to be the receiver of. 

Aaron is special, in every meaning of the word. I have not yet encountered another person like him. No one had color to their thoughts like he did, he is truly alone.


	8. Creative

Robert came back into the room, and stayed silent for a few moments. He didn't have anything constructive to say.

"Daddy, Louis doesn't think he likes red sauce," Aaron told him. He feels the need to tell Robert everything, I guess that's good. I'm glad they have a healthy father-son relationship. 

"Well that's okay, he can put just cheese on it," he reassured his son, and Aaron sighed. 

"Do you guys need any help?" Robert asked. Aaron shook his head, then looked at me for an answer.

"Louis, you good?" he asked, acting like what I said to him while Aaron was changing his shirt didn't even happen. 

But he didn't forget. He knows, and it makes him tense at the sight of me. 

He is scared of me. Or for me, I can't tell the difference. I only know how to identify fear, and that I caused it.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My hands hurt too much for this," I quietly admitted. 

"Ah," he said while he turned to the medicine cabinet. He wagged his pointer finger like he just remembered something, I know what. Still I watched, waiting to see in real time the medicine he would give me. Aaron walked up to Robert and tugged on his shirt to get his attention.

"Is Louis sick?" Aaron whispered. He pieced together that Robert went into the medicine cabinet to get something for me, and people need medicine when they're ill. 

"No bud, his hands just hurt," he answered. Aaron got up to look for himself, and gasped. 

"His arms are cracked and red too!" he suddenly shouted at Robert. He kneeled down to be eye level with me as he opened up the medicine.

Aaron must've not been paying too much attention to my hands earlier when he held them to lead me downstairs.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Why?" Aaron questioned. He's standing in the middle of the kitchen, and has a stance that makes him look out of place. Even though he's in his own house, he looks odd.

But, I'm not one to talk about being strange.

"He got burned," Robert answered after he looked at me and saw that I won't say it for myself. I stuck another pin in his doll, it's not his place to broadcast my agony - especially when he saw that I wouldn't say anything.

"I'll be right back!" Aaron exclaimed as he bounded up the stairs. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Everything came to a screeching halt.

"I know everyone," I mumbled to Robert. Humans are being born every second, but they don't start thinking immediately. I have no one left to learn about.

Robert understood, but didn't say anything in response. No words of support, sympathy, nothing.

Aaron galloped back downstairs with a teddy bear twice his size. 

He silently handed it to me, and smiled as I hugged it.

"Take it," he suggested. I pushed the fluffy stuffed animal down out of my line of sight to give him a questioning look. 

"You like to hug it..." he trailed off as his eyes darted around the room.

I nodded, I'm relatively sure he's asking a question. 

"It's your toy," he declared, with a certain finality in his voice. 

"It's yours, don't just give me things." I tried, but I still didn't let go of it quite yet. It felt nice to bury my head in the softness of it, for once my skin didn't hurt while I was doing something. 

I could let go of all my woes when squeezing this mass of plush, and that's something I desperately need right now. Right now I have no burdens of ghosted emotions, and it's a dream. 

This instance is different than when I feared I'm too similar to a machine, because then I wasn't sure I could feel. Now, I'm choosing not to. I'm finally able to command something in my life, and that's relief beyond words. 

"Daddy, give it to Louis." Aaron pointed at it and backed his voice with a commanding tone, and Robert laughed. 

"How about this." Robert said as he knelt down between Aaron and I. 

"Once Louis is done with it, it can live on his side of the room. Okay?" He asked. I nodded, but Aaron shook his head.

"On his bed!" Aaron exclaimed, but Robert smiled and shook his head. 

"Silly, it's too big to fit on Louis' bed!" Robert said as he tickled Aaron's sides. 

"Lets get it away from food though, we don't want to ruin it with red sauce," Robert suggested as he moved the bears arm away from the table. 

I offered him the whole bear to take. 

The oven made a ding! sound that echoed once before falling silent. 

Aaron dragged up the stool to look at the screen on the oven to investigate, but as he climbed up Robert pulled him down onto the floor again. 

"Bud, you don't want to get your shirt dirty again." Robert looked at Aaron's grumpy face to say. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, and Robert did the same. 

It looked like mocking to me, but based on Aaron's reaction I assume I misinterpreted the situation because he started giggling again. 

"That just means we put the pizzas in now," he clarified. Aaron started at him blankly for a moment, then exclaimed in happiness as he handed his dish over to Robert. 

"It's done?" Robert asked Aaron, and he nodded proudly. 

"Hey Louis, do you want one made for you?" Robert asked me. I shook my head, and he nodded in understanding. 

"Alright bud, now we wait ten minutes for it to bake," Robert told Aaron. 

"Okay..." he said slowly. 

"Why don't you show Louis to your room?" Robert suggested. Aaron looked at the oven with a concerned look, and Robert pat him on the back. 

"I'll get your pizza out when it's done," Robert promised, and Aaron nodded. 

Aaron reached for my hand, but lowered it almost immediately. 

"I'm not going to touch your hand," he declared.

His thoughts are considerate, not disgusted like they might've seemed. 

"He already saw my room," Aaron pointed out as he saw the flaw in Robert's request.

Robert just needs a reason to get me away from him, I understand. He needed time to figure out how to deal with me, to make sure I don't frighten or hurt Aaron. I can assure I would never, ever do the latter, but I understood why he thought otherwise. 

"Do you want to play with my Lego bricks?" Aaron asked as he stopped in the foyer to wait for me.

I nodded, mindless activities to busy myself are always preferred over anything else. 

Aaron understood my gesture in record time. Then, without touching my hand, he led me down the stairs into a carpeted basement. Aaron is thinking about the term "playroom", but the entire room isn't filled with things to play with. 

Front and center against the wall is a massive flat screen, with a cushioned couch a few feet away from it. The couch itself is sandwiched between two comfy recliners. Behind that were three tables pushed in a row against the wall. Under those were bins of Lego bricks, with a computer chair pushed into what looked like what Aaron is working on at the moment. 

"I'll get you another chair," he reasoned, and ran out of the room. 

I heard him calling for Robert, which was shortly followed by the loud banging sound the wheels made when they hit the stairs, which only got louder as it slowly and awkwardly made its descent. 

I thanked Aaron, just generally for what he's done for me. He nodded, and pushed up the chair to the second table. 

Robert went upstairs as Aaron sat down in his chair, and pulled a bin of Legos out from under the table. 

"You can build what you want," he offered up an invitation to me to join him. 

"Um, okay." I find it funny how I'm forced to focus so closely on what other people think and respond that I completely fail in thinking of a response of my own. One that's knowledgeable, that is. I want any answer of mine to reflect the power I really have, but I'm also only six years old. Additionally, speaking makes the cuts on my face hurt too much anyway.

"What are you building?" I spoke to avoid the dizzying feeling that takes over me. In silence I only experienced the ever-present throbbing in my head, and my quickening heartbeat. 

I'm so concerned I'll take in too much information and I won't be able to physically take it. I could imagine it too well: my heart will palpitate in attempts to get enough oxygen to my brain to handle it. Then, inevitably it won't be in the realm of pheasability and I'll suffocate. Very quiet, very uneventful, and hopefully not anytime very soon.

That's a problem I shouldn't be putting my focus into right now. At the moment I'm only gaining intel, it would be my choice if I want to focus on someone specifically. In two weeks, I'll have to dwell on it. Which could end tolerably, or be completely disastrous. The most important thing for me to figure, is that there's no way this will end nicely. 

It's become a grim part of my personality that at six years old, I'm imagining my death instead of playing with Legos like Aaron is. 

"I don't know." Aaron shrugged. It baffled me how he can just go to work on this seemingly organized project without a plan. But looking at what I assumed is the end product, it's breathtaking. 

A tower, spectacular in height loomed before us. 

"Turn off the light?" he requested of me, and I nodded and got up. 

Before I turned around, I saw something that glowed out of my peripheral vision. Aaron smiled in pleasure as he sat down and leaned back in his chair to admire his creation. 

"It's beautiful," I complimented, and he nodded in agreement. 

And just like that, his dulling thoughts gained their vibrancy once again. Right before my eyes, what I believed was irreparable damage was healed by creative expression. 

It perplexed me, how could something so minor have such a huge consequence?

"What did you build?" he asked. He's confused by how the table I'm sitting at is still empty, clear of any material I would've utilized in my attempts.

"Oh, I was thinking," I responded, with an obvious tone of awkwardness in my voice. 

"What?" I knew he meant 'about what?' Instead of asking for clarification on what I said, but I didn't know how to elaborate. 

"It's nothin' important." I insisted, but I had Aaron's attention. His big, crystal blue eyes stared at me as he blinked, my face is still a point he fixates himself on. 

"About... the pizza." my mind scrambled for a way out so I don't have to explain this. Robert is thinking about them, so I guessed he was taking them out of the oven.

"Do you think it's ready?" Aaron asked. I shrugged, even though I knew it's done. 

"We can check?" I suggested. Aaron nodded, and I led the way up the stairs. 

"Hi Daddy." Aaron sighed as he walked into the kitchen. 

Robert looked at me first, to see if I know why Aaron is suddenly acting like this. But I shook my head, this is sudden. He hasn't thought about this, I had no warning or anything.

An accusatory thought crossed his mind for just a second, but he quickly shoved it out of his mind. 

But it happened, as much as he tried to stop it. My lips tightened into a thin line as I balled my fists. For the first time since I was taken, I was angry. A sheer rage overtook me, and there's nothing I could do. 

There's nothing I want to do to restrain myself. However I deem fit to act, Robert brought it on himself.


	9. Avoidance

I wouldn't ever hurt Aaron, and I'm enraged Robert thinks otherwise. 

His thoughts are too beautiful, he's too enticing. Who would be evil enough to want to harm him?

My mind is shaped by the devil reincarnate, my only purpose is to hurt people. But that's the only thing I've tried my hardest to control, to make sure I never do. 

It's something I'll never act on, no matter how much I thought. Or how in detail I planned, Aaron is off limits.

He's the only person that has acted nicely towards me, he's a friend. I can't push him away.

I do think about how to bring discomfort to Robert, I concede. I thought about how I could leverage myself to gain the upper hand on him once again. I want him to experience firsthand what I'm actually capable of. 

But, I won't hurt him. I'll impress fear on him with ultimate chaos as a byproduct. Psychological torment is far different than physical pain, different entities entirely. 

"What's up?" Robert asked instead of assuming that I'm at fault any longer.

"I miss mum," Aaron sniffled. Robert looked at me cautiously, like I would start crying as well. He didn't think about apologizing me for wrongly accusing me when I'm innocent.

"Awe, Aaron." Robert gasped as he fell on his knees to hug his son. 

"I'll talk with her about visiting, okay?" Robert assured. He's lying, but Aaron can't tell. He might call her, but he doesn't have the courage to talk about visitation.

From Robert's mind, I learned that Aaron's mum is Robert's ex wife. I assumed as much, so it only served as a confirmation. 

And, out of the information I could figure if I had been given the context, I became aware of the fact that she is an awful lady. 

It was a mutual divorce, they were both cooperative regarding court dates and child support and all. 

But, when it came to visitation, she didn't want any. In front of Aaron, she shouted at Robert that "Your child is retarded! I don't want to see him until he can read correctly, you understand? He's an idiot for not knowing already!" 

The one thing I can't figure out, is why Aaron still wants to see her. Even if he doesn't realize, she is toxic to him and he should stay away. 

And I wasn't provided with an answer, neither of them are thinking about it. 

Aaron climbed onto the bar stools in front of the marble island, which is in the middle of the kitchen. He started to eat his pizza, and I waited for him.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"You love your mum?" I asked him, and he shrugged in response. 

"Daddy says if she was in her right mind she wouldn't stay away from me." I blinked a few times in surprise. That wasn't what I was asking or referring to at all, it took me a moment to reassess the situation and acclimate. 

"Ah." - Handled like a pro. 

"She's not in her right mind?" there's so many implications one could mean with that statement, I'm just trying to figure out what he's getting at. 

"I dunno. She can read." I looked at Aaron while he ate. I took a moment to realize what he just said. 

It's the equivalent of "I'm not sure, probably not". The way he phrased it made them seem unrelated, but I understood. He doesn't know the name to why he has trouble reading, which is a reason why as well. He just knows he can't understand text, and that everyone else his age can (except me- but I am a special exception). So, he's began to tie that to intelligence. Which is crazy, and wrong to do to himself. But no one has proposed another way of thinking, and I'm in no place to.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Daddy, I finished," Aaron told Robert as he came down the stairs. 

"Can you wash your dish off?" Robert asked. In response, Aaron looked confused as he shook his head. 

"You don't like me standing on the stool, I would get my shirt dirty. It's a church shirt, too nice. Too nice, you said, t-too nice," Aaron looked insistent on reminding Robert about what he said. But Aaron failed to realize that it's a separate circumstance, that it isn't a rule that applies regardless. 

"Okay," Robert surrendered quietly, and took Aaron's dish to wash off himself. 

"Can I call mum?" Aaron asked. Robert looked like he was taken aback at the sudden question. 

"I'll ask her," Robert quietly assured, not turning away from the sink. I don't know why Robert wants to put that stress on himself, Aaron volunteered. And if Aaron called, I bet she'll be more compelled to listen to her poor child as opposed to her stupid ex-husband.

"I'm going to get in my pajamas now," Aaron let Robert know. Robert nodded, and Aaron went upstairs. 

I didn't stay around Robert. I'm still infuriated with him, and don't want to hurt him in my anger. If I'm going to hurt him, I want it to be carefully devised and executed.

So, instead of plunging myself into an argument with myself that will do no good to anyone, I called after Aaron. 

"You have so many pajamas," I remarked. Aaron started thinking about why immediately, so I didn't feel the need to carry the conversation further than there. He has two dresser drawers filled up to the brim with pajamas.

I need to talk to him more. Without human interaction I'll drive myself insane before the year is over. Even now, when every conversation is at a minimum, I'm on my way to isolation and loneliness. How pleasant to consider.

My conclusion with my defeatist attitude set aside, is that I have to make a greater effort to socialize. It will be difficult, but I must do anything in my power to help myself. 

I didn't want Aaron to go downstairs and hear Robert getting pulled into a screaming match with his mum. So, understandably I got a bit nervous when I saw him going in the hallway, as sound travels easier there then it does in a room.

But, he is just going in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

His bathroom has a long counter with two sinks, and both a shower and bath.

"We have a toothbrush for you." he opened a small drawer under the counter, and revealed a few toothbrushes, which are untouched and resting in their packages. 

I know how to brush my teeth only because Aaron is thinking about it, I couldn't have figured it out on my own. If I didn't have him as a reference, I would probably brush my teeth like people brush their hair, and I wouldn't know to use toothpaste. 

I started brushing my teeth, and Aaron ran downstairs. He promised that he would be back, but he's gone for now. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Daddy?" Aaron asked as he walked in the kitchen. 

"What is it?" I sound exasperated, but Aaron didn't catch on. I'm glad he didn't realize, as he would think I'm upset with him. He tends to jump to the worst case scenario in any situation.

"You got stuff to help me sleep, do I take it before or after I brush my teeth?" he asked. I put down the sponge I was cleaning off the stove top with, dried the soap off my hands, then got the box of Melatonin from the cabinet to read the label. 

"It doesn't matter. But it tastes like grape, do you want that taste in your mouth all night?" I asked, and Aaron shook his head. 

"I want to take the Melanin first." it isn't Melanin, but I know what he's getting at. 

"Just let it melt on your tongue, okay?" I instructed him, and he nodded. He's very good at following directions when he understands. 

"I'm going to cut the pill in half so it's not too terribly strong," I told him what I'm about to do so he won't act out when I do it. 

Aaron is a very well behaved kid, but he gets frustrated when something that is in order is disrupted. He has a rigid routine set for himself, and never deviates from it. And that's admirable, but just like anything else it can get frustrated at times.

"I'm not sick," he stated. I nodded, he saw me get this out of the medicine cabinet. And it has a name that probably seemed complicated in his mind enough to qualify as a medicine. It's similar in color, size, and shape too- it looks just like a pill.

"I know bud. This is more of a helper, so you can get the sleep that you need every night," I clarified. Aaron was silent for half a minute while he took the time for himself to understand, then nodded. 

"No chewing it," he reiterated my instructions, and I nodded. 

Aaron was fine with the concept up until the actual action of it. 

He doesn't like any kinds of pills, or needles. I guessed that stemmed from the excessive medicating his mother did to try to "cure" him. 

Since then I've consulted his doctors about taking him off the unnecessary medication, and putting him in therapy instead. Not as an effort to cure him, but just to calm him down enough to enable him to live with it. Talk therapy helps, I've done the research. His dyslexia can be corrected (for loss of a better word to use) with a considerable amount of effort, which he hasn't been willing to offer lately. I'm trying my best now, but I'll help him with that when he's ready to accept assistance. He mostly just needs to talk to someone about his anger, then we can tackle the fact that he has his heart set on the fact that he never wants to learn how to read.

"It'll be over quickly," I promised him, but he is still apprehensive. 

Eventually, I convinced him to take it. It'll be a battle every night, but it's for his health. I'll do anything to make him feel better.

"Alright, go brush your teeth and get to bed, okay?" I told him, and he nodded and bounded up the stairs. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Did you brush your teeth already?" Aaron asked me as he re-entered the bathroom. I started to, but without him, I didn't know how much toothpaste to use.

So instead of engaging in oral hygiene, I was involved in an intense staring contest with my reflection up until I heard footsteps in the hall. I didn't want to explain what I was doing to anyone, so I just avoided being "caught in the act" entirely. 

I nodded, and he asked me to wait for him to finish. One night of not brushing my teeth isn't going to kill me, I need to observe him about how to do it first. I would do it tonight, but I have too much pride to admit to him that I need help. Besides, I already told him I did it. I lied, and he would begin to wonder what I was doing while he took his medicine if I asked him how to brush my teeth.

"Agh, yucky!" he exclaimed as the lingering taste of the medicine fused with the toothpaste. But other than that, it was silent as he continued. You can't truly talk while brushing your teeth, lest you accidentally swallow the fluoride which is present in your toothpaste in your attempt. 

That would lead to a number of problems later in life, I only know of them because of people in my mind that bear those weights. They are barely present, but it still gave me a distant sense of sadness. Lives other than mine cannot be lived to the fullest, it's particularly saddening to think about.

So, to avoid that situation with Aaron entirely, I kept my mouth shut. There are times to speak and be social like I promised myself, but this isn't one of them.


	10. Rest

     I know the time at any part of the day. Someone in the world is bound to be thinking about what time it is. And once I apply the time zone if there is a difference, I have my unique and extremely unconventional way of telling the time. 

     I know amounts of time too, so long as I make a mental note of the beginning and the end of the period I want to measure. 

     So, I knew that I was lying in bed for three hours, twenty seven minutes, and fourteen seconds. I occupied that time by staring at the ceiling, and following the faint patterns across it.

      It isn't like I can't fall asleep because I'm not tired, I'm exhausted. But shutting my eyes hurt.

     Every time I close my eyes, the voices echo increasingly louder in my head. It builds to the point that I have seven billion voices screaming in my head, demanding my attention. And if I don't go unconscious immediately, god, it's torture.

      Oh, and the mattress! The springs dig into my already horribly beaten skin. I have to stay perfectly still, or else the sheet would chafe against my body and cause immense pain.

     I couldn't help the fact that my body moves when I breathe, that's enough discomfort. 

     I don't mean to be ungrateful, it's still better than the dirt. I was feeling worse then. Ever so slightly and unbearably slowly, I'm healing. 

     "Louis?" Aaron tiredly yawned. Prior to his question, he was quietly reciting lines from shows and movies that he has picked up. It didn't bother me though, his tired voice has a soft tone and invokes a sense of calm in me. 

     "Are you... awake?" he asked slowly, still lying down and facing the opposite direction from me. 

     If I didn't know what he's thinking, I would think that he is sleep talking and would disregard the question. 

     But, even with the medication, he's far from sleep.

     "I am," I answered what he asked, at a volume that only he would hear. 

     "Why do you have... scars on your face?" I sat up at the sudden question. Not quickly enough to make me dizzy, but it made my skin feel inflamed again. 

     "He cut me," I whispered. I shuddered as I recalled the memory. I should've cried at the horrid thought, but I didn't. I just feel numb.

     "Daddy did?" he sat up now as well, facing me and looking terrified. 

     "No! It's someone you don't know," I exclaimed at first, then lowered my voice to a murmur. 

     "Why?" he cocked his head and innocently questioned. I took a deep breath. 

     "So he can find me." he still looked confused. 

      "He can just call your name." he laughed lightly, then looked worried.

     Because of my unreadable expression, he struggled to formulate his next question. Everything in his mind came to a halt while he tried to figure out what to say to me next.

     "Are you sad?" he asked eventually. 

     "I don't know." I guess I do feel upset, but don't people cry when they're sad? 

      "How...are you feeling?" he asked, and I didn't have an answer. I'm overtaken by a sheer sense of apathy, but that's it. I can't change the past, so why get upset about it? 

      "I'm fine". "Fine" is a radically different sentiment than unfeeling. But, Aaron was taught that someone is always feeling something, and I don't want to mess him up now and say that isn't true. 

     I guess it might have a little truth behind it, if I have feelings after all they're so subtle that they go completely unnoticed. Or, they're so dark and grim that I purposefully don't pay them any mind, in hopes that they'll recede back into the depths of the mind they came from. 

     Aaron switched on the light that's on his bedside table, and turned around to face me. 

     "You don't look fine. Why does he need to hurt you to find you?" he got surprisingly profound and articulate. 

     "Because he's mean." I know Aaron would understand if I said abusive. It might take him a minute, but he would've gotten it. 

     But, I don't want him to think I was abused. I just didn't want him to treat me any differently and take pity on me or anything. 

     "Are you okay?" he questioned. 

    I have to be honest. It might make him feel bad, but if he is falsely given hope that I am okay now, he'll have a ruder awakening years down the road. 

     "No." shaking my head and vocalizing the answer would both hurt my skin, so I decided to exhibit the lesser of the two evils. 

     "What can I do to help?" he followed with, and I didn't have an answer for him. Besides, it's not like he can help.

     "Did he make your skin red too?" he asked. I nodded. 

     "How?" I'm not showing in my expression how his questions are making me uneasy, so I don't blame him for insisting on asking them.

     "Um..." Aaron stayed silent as he waited for an answer.

     I wasn't using my time to try to come up with a lie and attempt to trick him. No, I couldn't explain because I'm still wondering what happened myself. I couldn't see when they did it, all I know is its effect on me. 

       
     "He threw me in a pool of, uh, stuff." that's the best I can figure. 

     And a man that I was powerless to stop held me in it until I lacked the energy to struggle. He waited until I was just on the brink of drowning to get me out, then helped Damian keep me still so he could slice my face open with reckless abandon to my health. That I hope I'll never forget, because I never want it explained to me by someone else. Years from now I don't want to wonder about how my face got mutilated, and have people explain my life to me. I don't want strangers to know my life better than I do.

     I didn't want Aaron to know the horrifying details, I don't even want to myself. I want to remember, but knowing is different. The latter means you have it on the forefront of your mind constantly, and I can't handle that.

     "I'm sorry." I gasped as Aaron felt the need to apologize. 

     "Don't think like that, please," I begged him, not letting the silence between the remarks exist. He shouldn't apologize to me when he isn't at fault, it'll give him an unnecessary sense of guilt and responsibility. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

     "Daddy says you're special. I told him how he said that everyone is special, but he said you're very special." Aaron is the only one that didn't know about my ability. But if Robert doesn't want him to know, who am I to go against that? 

     A sardonic, conniving child who's hellbent on revenge. I'm still pissed off about what Robert thought about me hours ago, and I need to level the playing field. 

     I should never think like that, that's a surefire way to being evil, which leads to hurting people. But this is an exception, Robert made me angry. And dealing with Aaron's questions would be the best of his problems when I-

     Stop. Do what you need to calm down. My own mind interrupted myself to remind me before I could continue elaborating on the intrusive thought.

If Robert asked what my motives were, I'd tell him one of two things. I would use the first one if I want to stay out of trouble, and the second one is if I'm in the mood to make some. If I were going with my first thought, I'd blame it on my tired delusion. That's influencing me now, so it isn't a flat lie. And the second would be formulated in the moment, in the heart of my remaining rage.  

     "I can read minds," I confidently confessed. But still, for some illogical reason my voice is quieter and more vulnerable than it's ever been.

     "I can tell what people are thinking," I added as clarification when he didn't speak.

     "That's pretty cool." Aaron grinned. I breathed a sigh of relief, I convinced myself that he would be afraid of me too. 

     Aaron is the only person I can really talk to, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost him to something stupid like a simple fact.

     "Can I give you a hug?" he looked up at me. I could see the shadows of doubt on his face, even in the low light.

     "Yes," I choked up. I've been starved of all meaningful touch for three long, empty days now. 

     I didn't care about how much it would hurt my skin. I want to cuddle with someone too badly to let my physical ailments get in the way.

     Aaron carefully sat next to me on the bed, and kicked his feet back and forth off the side as I had done shortly before.

     He slowly placed his arm around my shoulder, not changing position or altering anything but where his arm went. 

     "What did the man that I don't know do to you that was mean?" he didn't stop to emphasize any specific words, and it took me awhile to realize most of his statement is just reciting the knowledge that I told him earlier in the conversation. 

     "After I was held in the pool, I could tell what people were thinking. Then, he cut my face so he could find me," I massively summarized. I also said "pool", because it sounds more appealing than "acid bath that melted my skin off".

     "Why does daddy say you're more special? You're just more hurt." Aaron definitely thinks more than he leads on. 

     According to Robert, everyone is special. But Aaron was right. I know he isn't trying to imply that I'm not a special little snowflake, but the thing Robert is praising me for is caused by excruciating torture. 

     "Do you have school tomorrow?" I asked him. I knew the answer immediately, but it took him a half a minute more to say it. 

     "N-no, it's a holiday. I don't have school and it's my mums birthday. The twentieth is tomorrow, Wednesday- it's November twentieth tomorrow." Aaron got flustered as he explained it to me. I apologized for making that mistake regarding the calendar, and he silently nodded as he looked up at me. 

     His arm is still around my shoulder. 

     "I hate this." he looked down at my hand when he said that. If I couldn't tell what he's thinking I would be more confused, but because of this godforsaken ability I can. 

     "So do I," he's talking about my skin. 

     "I don't know the man?" he verified once again, and I nodded. 

     "I don't like the man. He hurt you." as much as I appreciate the notion, I have to realize that I wouldn't have met Aaron if Damian didn't hurt me. 

     "Get some rest," I uneasily suggested. I didn't want him to jeopardize his health just because he's worrying about improving mine.

     "You get some sleep too," Aaron told me, and wagged his finger at me as he pouted. 

     "I'll try," I quietly mumbled. 

     Aaron turned off the light, and brought the blanket up to completely cover his shoulders. 

     I turned to lie on my back, and winced as it feels like my skin is tearing like paper. I'm fragile, and it will never heal if I keep agitating it.  

     I took one last deep inhale, then tried to minimize my breaths as much as I could. 

     I kept my eyes open for as long as I could. I reasoned that it would be better to take the dull pain that felt like my head is being rung like a bell, rather than plunging into a pit where seven billion people are screaming at me for an eternity. 

     But eventually, I wasn't even strong enough to keep my eyes open. 

     Once I did go to sleep, I was unconscious for twenty seven hours consecutively.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

     At that point, I just felt cold. A deep chill in my bones that counted as hypothermia had it been in real life. 

     But, this isn't real. I experienced the worlds worst nightmares, all simultaneously.

     I felt my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I rocked back and forth. I cried out, holding my head in my hands as I tried desperately to silence the screeching voices in my head. 

     "It's not real." I took a shuddering breath, still rocking. I repeated that again and again, until I was shrieking and bawling. 

     The voices are demons that could never be silenced.

     I weakly cried out for help, and of course no one heard.

     I was made aware of my heaving breath, which is a clear signal to me that my efforts are completely wasted.  

     For twenty seven hours, I was forced to live in the hell that is my own mind.


	11. Scarred

Aaron is doing something terribly idiotic. 

His thoughts are like a ray of light. As I imagined it the picture was painted in my mind. It's a bit of sunshine so bright that it hurts my eyes, which have been used to crippling darkness for so long.

Even in my comatose world, I heard his thoughts are extremely close to me. I judged distance when I can't see by how loudly the thoughts are to me.

He's either sitting on a chair by my bedside, waiting for me to wake up- or he's thinking about me. Neither options are good.

If I could wake up, I would. But, I lack the strength. It's like every system shut down, and I simply don't possess the energy to restart. 

I have no alternative to machine metaphors, as much as I loathe it. 

Daddy you sleep at nighttime, it's daytime and Louis is still asleep! Aaron kept repeating to Robert. 

H-he's very t-tired... I know that Robert is looking over at me doubtfully. 

Twenty eight hours. Twenty nine. Thirty. Aaron is still sitting there. Didn't he have anywhere else to be?

I want to wake up. I can't handle being left alone with my own mind, it scares me. I need a distraction, a petty, worldly desire to take me away from this demonic wasteland. 

It's like I'm captured, and I can't free myself from the never ending flow of thought. I'm not strong enough, but the longer I stay asleep the weaker I become.

I'm drowning again, I'm well aware of the sensation. I get taken back to that awful moment, it's the only thing I can never forget. It plays alongside the other nightmares, it never stops. There's never an ending in sight, it replays in an infinite loop.

I experience everyone's worst fear at once. I lived through their most violent impulses, and the gremlins of intrusive thinking that they've convinced themselves they successfully shoved to the back of their mind. They can think about it once and be rid of it- I have to live alongside it.

My hands shook as I forced myself not to give in and hurt anyone. But I only ended up destroying myself, and utilizing my body as an instrument for oblivion. 

My erratic heartbeat pounded in my ears as I screamed. My tears trailed down my face as I desperately tried to break down my mental prison. 

It wasn't long until I was weak and useless again, and collapsed against the side of the boundary. It's ebony wicker woven in a cylindrical shape, and not even large enough for me to stand. 

I whimpered as I realized how lonely I am. No one can come to help, nobody will help. My breath is heaving, but I couldn't cry anymore. Eventually, I couldn't hear myself. A horrendous, high pitched ringing sound blared in my ears, second only to the shrieking voices of the nightmares and horrid thoughts.

I couldn't fathom it possibly getting worse. 

But, I was wrong. 

The awful feelings and thoughts that I'm burdened with gained a physical presence. They formed a void, so my sense of sight was taken from me as well. Their black tendrils swirled all around me. It's hard to breathe, and impossible to move. 

I'm a prisoner in my own mind. 

I could feel the air being forced out of my lungs as I screamed for help again, but no one could save me. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Every time I fall asleep it feels like I'm dying. I have to fight to wake up, and I just barely won.

If Aaron let me sleep, I wouldn't have. Robert told him not to worry, but I'm grateful that he took matters into his own hands.

As I was immersed in the worst the world has to offer for thirty two hours, Aaron shook me awake. 

"Hey, it's okay. You're gonna be alright," he reassured me. I was still screaming as I regained consciousness and sight. But as soon as I realized where I am, I just focused on catching my breath. I did start crying, which stung the cuts on my face, but I don't care. Nothing can happen to me that is worse than what I just went through. Not even the acid and knife itself, as I only actually experienced it once. When I'm unconscious, it replays forever.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." I gasped for air, and coughed in my attempts. Instead of the suffocation I felt while attempting to breathe while in my penitentiary, I was offered the opportunity to breathe clearly.

Robert started thinking, he's right behind me. I whipped around in my surprise, he must've thought it was humorous to terrify me with his sudden presence.

"I'm going to make breakfast, what do you two want? Louis I can make you a fruit smoothie if you'd like, I don't want your skin to hurt." The mention of food keyed me into how hungry I am, I completely forgot that I need to eat.

"Of course, if you're not well enough to eat or want me to make you something else, I will. You do what you need to feel healthy, you just look so thin." I don't know what he interpreted my silence as, but he felt the need to clarify. Like I'm slow or something- I guess he's just in the habit from Aaron.

"Thank you. A smoothie would be great," I told Robert, and he smiled at me. I didn't reciprocate the gesture, it's pointless. He isn't genuinely happy, so why should I pretend to be? 

I focused less on how he acted, and more on what he said. I don't think it's anything important, but I have to backtrack just to make sure he didn't ask me another question I didn't realize. I got caught up on one thing he said: I look thin? I haven't even thought about it. I'm so preoccupied with other things, and the only thing I'm really concerned about is staying awake.

"Daddy, daddy," Aaron called out to him, and put his small hands on Robert's thigh.

"What's up?" Robert asked him, and kneeled down to be his height. Then, Aaron moved his hands to Robert's chest for balance.

"I'm going to stay up here with Louis, but can you get me cereal please?" he asked.

"Of course bud!" Robert smiled, and Aaron thanked him. 

Robert straightened up, cleared his throat, and left the room.

"You're scary." Aaron sat down and told me. 

I could tell by his thoughts that he means You scared me. But if I have to go by just speech, I would still agree. 

"Yeah." I breathed deeply as I experienced his colored thoughts return to my mind in their full glory. In hell they were different, but in glaring brightness rather than vibrant rainbows. 

"H-how are you?" he stammered. He doesn't know how to converse with me anymore.

I don't know how to respond to him, but in all fairness I don't know how to converse with anyone. I shouldn't lie, no matter how easy a simple "I'm fine" is to say. 

How am I doing? I'm not feeling upset, I probably just have residual anger.

I'm in pain, but that's constant and unwavering so it's not worthy enough to say. He's asking how I am right now, not generally.

It didn't take me long to figure out which word to use as soon as I decided what I'm feeling. 

"Drained". that's a perfect description. Because when you're drained, you feel like you don't have any energy to carry on. But you do anyway, and that's what I'm expected to do. 

"Sleep helps you feel less tired..." Aaron trailed off as he tapped his foot in rapid succession, he looked doubtful and scratched the back of his head. I confused him, I slept for thirty two hours and ended more exhausted than I began. 

"Are you sick? Sick people sleep during the day." if I'm left alone with my mind for that amount of time again, I would drive myself insane. But no, I'm healthy. 

I actually laughed because I'm oblivious enough to think that of myself. What I meant by healthy, is that I'm not as precariously close to death as I was before. So, that's good. 

"No," I said, and Aaron nodded.

"Your skin still hurts?" he asked. I thought in a way that my mouth moved slightly over to the side of my face before I could consider the consequences. 

For all the brain power in the world, I am the biggest moron at times. 

"Yes." I winced. 

"Does your head hurt from knowing what everyone's thinking?" his questions didn't seem to have an end. I squinted my eyes and took a deep breath, then nodded. 

Squinting is a better alternative to closing my eyes. Because I still go to that awful place whenever I close my eyes, it's just amplified when I'm unconcscious.

"C-" Aaron stopped, and looked to the floor. But I already know what he's going to ask, it just troubled me because I don't know why he would wonder such a thing.

He looked up at me, his cheeks are a deep red color in embarrassment. 

"If it doesn't hurt you too much, c-can you t-tell me if my m-mum is thinking about me?" I probably looked dumbfounded to him, but I complied. 

"I need her name." if I just paid attention to what Aaron thought about his mum, I wouldn't come up with a person. It would just be miscellaneous ideas, same if I just "searched" for "Aaron's mum". 

He didn't think long before he spoke.

"Oh! It's Susan," he said, and I nodded and took another deep breath. 

Normally it doesn't additionally hurt me when I focus on someone. But her thoughts towards Aaron are just awful, I'm enraged. Also, slightly guilty for some reason that I can't place. 

"Did she have a good birthday?" Aaron fidgeted with his fingers instead of looking at me. 

He isn't even thinking about it on his own, he didn't let himself. He just patiently awaited my response. 

"Uh, yeah." she got incredibly drunk last night, and at the moment is having a wicked hangover. But what I said isn't really a lie, she did have a good birthday.

"Daddy tried calling her, but she didn't answer," Aaron explained why he asked me. 

"It's no trouble," I reassured, but he still looked doubtful. I didn't really want to talk about his mum. I've heard Robert gently remind Aaron a few times now, that "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all". That's become the phrase I go by, as a way of controlling my evil, evil thoughts. But it isn't foolproof, as I'm not trying to end verbal phrases. I'm trying to end thinking. Sounds stupid when I elaborate and spell it out.

"Did you have a good dream when you slept?" he questioned. It took me a bit to get used to the new path the conversation took, but I had the answer quickly following as soon as I did. 

"No," I said simply. It's a complicated situation with an easy answer. 

"Oh. I'm sorry." Aaron looked at the ground and a red colour temporarily flushed the paleness out of his cheeks. 

"It's fine." it isn't his fault, why does he keep apologizing? The only person that owes me such a thing is Damian, but I hope that I've lost contact with him forever. 

I began to wonder if he has people making sure I stay here. But, it would be all too easy for them to find me no matter where I could escape to. They're practically hunting me down, I'm sure Damian has more than one henchman.

At first, at the thought of escape, I wanted to bring Aaron. But, he would be safer without me. I couldn't drag him into this, especially if it's only so I can spend time with him.


	12. Anticipation

"What do you want to do today?" Aaron asked me as he led me down the stairs. He didn't touch my hand. 

"I'm fine with anything," I quietly answered, even though I knew we wouldn't be spending the day together.

Aaron started thinking about his schedule, which mainly consisted of him going to school after breakfast. He'll be gone for the entire day, practically.

Emma galloped up the stairs from the basement to get on the main level, and excitedly jumped up on Aaron's legs. 

"Hi puppy, hi," he cooed as he leaned down to pet Emma. Once she had his attention she went down to all fours, and stopped barking.

While Aaron interacted with Emma, I wondered for a bit about what I would do while he's at school.

I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to try building with Legos again. I have another twelve days before I go to work with Robert, what else is there to do around here?

I sighed as my head started to ache from all the moving parts. I don't want to think anymore at all. 

"I'm going to take Emma to the doggy daycare for the day, okay?" Robert told Aaron, and he nodded. 

He climbed up on a chair by the table, then tried his best to scoot it closer to his plate. Robert saw that he's struggling, then set the things he was working with down to push the chair in. 

"You good bud?" he asked his son. Aaron nodded in response and thanked him for the help. 

Louis, are you okay? He thought, but didn't dare ask. He didn't want to feel compelled to apologize and suggest a solution when I said "no".

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Bud, can you get dressed while Louis and I finish up?" Robert asked him once Aaron finished his breakfast. I could tell that he doesn't like rushing Aaron to get ready, but he also didn't want to be the cause if he's late for school. At least I can see that he cares for one other person than himself.

Aaron agreed, and jumped off the chair and skipped upstairs. He always has a skip in his step.

"If you can't finish the whole thing, it's fine. Lets just make tiny adjustments to how you eat so you don't get any major stomachaches. Kapeesh?" after looking at his thoughts for just a moment, I found that "kapeesh?" is just a synonym for "alright?".

"That's fine." I looked at the floor by his shoes. I didn't want to look him in the eyes, that's what you do when you respect someone enough to give them all your attention. I couldn't make myself listen to what he has to say like a normal person can, but I don't want him to think I trust or respect him in the slightest. 

"I'm gonna help him go off to school, are you okay for a few minutes?" he asked, but left anyway when I was silent. He knows my answer to "are you okay?" will always be "no".

Shortly after, I heard the floor shake slightly as the heavy wooden door shut. Aaron marched down the driveway and to the bus.

"Louis what can I do? I know this is hard for you," he offered once he came out, but I just looked to the ground and at his shiny black shoes again. I can tell he's not sincere.

I focused on the details of them. He's obviously going to work, that's apparent. He's leaving me home alone? That's not legal, is it?

I didn't worry too much about that, they've done so many illegal things with me that they won't be caught if they add another thing to the list. 

     Robert's shoes are shiny black leather, he's shined them recently.

     The real world and my mind are separate worlds, on a balance really. If I focus more on the real world, I supply my mind less power. And, say if I'm asleep and are forced to be with my mind, I lose whatever insignificant grip on reality and may even become a non-entity myself.

If I try to focus on both, my attention will diverge to degrees I cannot tolerate. And that would produce results I don't want to think about. 

But, I couldn't help it. The concept of destruction is alluring.

His shoes that I'm focusing on fused with his concerned thoughts, and swirled around my head. They gained traction like a snowball plummeting down a mountain. Like an avalanche occurring, more thoughts and facts about the room were swirled into the mix. 

I felt that same sense of overwhelming panic I did while unconscious, and didn't know how else to deal with it other than scream. 

I felt like reality was slipping as the nightmares gained hold of me. I screamed again, but the breath was forced out of me. The demons took a black form as they twisted around my neck and further strangled me.

I'm hallucinating. My eyes are forming black splotches as opposed to interpreting information correctly. What I'm seeing simply is not real, it can't be. I kept repeating that to myself, as if the mantra alone could chase away the demons.

I'm in a subconscious reality. Anything could happen. 

As validation for my atrocious behavior, let's work the numbers. A person has fifty thousand to seventy thousand thoughts a day. 

And, two thirds of those are negative. There are about seven and a half billion people on this world. So, daily, I hear four hundred and fifty five trillion thoughts, as they happen. That's over five trillion thoughts a second, a worthy statistic to mention.

That's just the baseline; it gets worse. 

Now, there's no world where I experience all positive thoughts, and if there were I would be given reason to grow suspicious. But, as I am right now, I only heard the negative ones. 

And the negative thoughts have much more ferocity to them than the opposite, so I don't benefit from that missing third. In fact it makes me feel more depressed, because there are no positive thoughts here. I have no "saving grace".

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I looked down at my hands. They are thin, and look aged far beyond my years. I could see the shadows the protruding bones cast onto my charred skin. 

I'm in my confinement again, completely alone. I didn't scream, there's no point. I just curled up into myself and fought off the urge to cry. I couldn't actually form tears, but I still felt the need to cry even though I can't.

I have no connection to the world anymore. I'm completely isolated, with no clue even what my own body is doing.

I took a moment to realize. While there is no color in this crevice of my mind, my skin is soft. It's healed, I'm incredulous to the intrusive thought originally. I ran my bony fingers down my face to make sure. To my joy, I could open my mouth without any worry. 

But, as much as I like the prospect of being healed, it's getting harder to ignore that my health is dwindling. I feel like the nightmares suck the energy out of me, and just leave skin and bone. But, I'm too weak to protest. I let them in, not fighting against who I am anymore. 

Evil, horrendous thoughts took root in my mind. I allowed it. I surrendered.

I curled up in a ball and laid down in the middle of the sphere. 

Instead of wicker, now it feels like dirt. I sat up with a jolt, my breath quickly going from a disassociated shudder to a panicked hyperventilation. 

I've lived out the worlds worst nightmares. 

Now, it's time to face my own. 

I found a reserve of energy I previously believed to be stolen from me to scream again, doing anything I could to stop thinking about it. 

Focus on Robert. Think about what he's doing. I suggested to myself, but I'm completely detached. That ability to pay attention, though I had it previously, has been taken away from me.

I was shrieking to such an unholy degree, that I hurt my own ears. In my defense, I'm too horrified at the thought of Damian's thoughts re-entering my mind. I know he's still alive, but his thoughts aren't present and I consider myself lucky.

The worst part came, but I didn't have any remaining volume to my voice to express how that made me feel. 

I did let awful sobs shake my body, because the prospect of me being healed is an illusion. I'm stupid to think I could be anything more than what my cuts lead people to believe about me. 

My throat hurts, it feels like it's on fire. 

Because my jaw is relaxed and I'm positioned on my side, saliva formed a pool under my cheek. I didn't know what is tears and what is drool. 

I felt my heartbeat slowing down. Each beat brought a horrendous, electrifying pain.

It's getting harder to supply my body the few things it needs. Am I dying?

A machine shuts down very gradually, which is an accurate metaphor to describe my energy depletion. 

My mind is in a desperate scramble to process each and every thing, but I couldn't do it. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I had no idea what to expect, I didn't know that anything was wrong. I didn't know what went wrong, and I was completely clueless as to how to help him feel better. 

So, I let the E.M.Ts take over. 

"Sir, we're gonna take him to the hospital," the person who commanded the operation of the AED informed me. He said that with a heavy French accent and pronunciation that isn't accurate, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"You can come if you would like, but the doctors will evaluate what he needs to be healthy." Visiting time would be affected, I understood. 

I thanked him, and he nodded and said that it was their pleasure to help. 

Louis was unresponsive to whatever they tried, which frightened me. It isn't even about work at this point, which I will definitely not be going to today. It's the fact that he's only six years old, and has already gone through unbearable and dangerous adversities. 

What I'm most terrified about, though, is that it will only get harder from here. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I didn't have a concept of where I am, or reality at all. Everything is twisted, like the people around me thought in cryptids.

I got the message of the world around me eventually, but it's gargled and I didn't understand. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I covered my mouth with both my hands and sighed. 

I paced a bit, then called into work. 

"Where are you?" my manager spat at me.

"Louis got hurt." I looked to the floor as I answered. 

"What!" they care more about his ability than him, I know.

"I may be out tomorrow as well. I need to make sure he's okay, he's been through a lot." I didn't ask permission to leave, I just informed them of my absence.

My phone buzzed with the busy line notification. 

"Look, I've gotta go." I sighed, and picked up the call waiting. 

"Hello?" I asked. I stood in the foyer instead of going to the hospital immediately.

"Hi this is Ms.Carol, Aaron's teacher from Redwood special. I'm speaking to his parent or guardian, correct?" I sighed, I completely forgot that I was supposed to get in contact with her.

"This is he. My apologies, I intended to call you." 

"You're fine! I just want to schedule a good time to have his IEP meeting with you?" she asked. 

"Uh, in three weeks i'll be available every afternoon, but these next two weeks I have a significant amount of things to do for work." that was met with silence. 

"Of course, I can make time," I suggested. 

After discussing dates that felt like an unwelcome negotiation, we settled on Wednesday of next week. I wished her well, then sighed again once I hung up.


	13. Mended

"Whoa, lie back down for me, alright? Don't try to sit up just yet," a woman directed as she held my shoulders down. 

     "Can you breathe out for me please?" she asked. As I exhaled, she pulled the breathing tube out of my throat. I started coughing, and she hummed instead of patting my shoulder. 

     "I know, that was uncomfy," she sympathized.

     "Can you rate your pain for me? One is uncomfortable, ten is awful," she directed. 

     "Six?" I mumbled as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights. I couldn't open them all the way yet. 

      "Can you tell me where it hurts?" she asked. 

     "My head- it's like hammers are smashing it," I nearly closed my eyes. 

     "I need you to stay with me," she told me as she held my hands. They were wrapped in so many bandages that they were twice their normal size. 

     Your hands got infected, that's why they look bloated, she thought, but didn't think it was important enough to explain.

     "Does anywhere else hurt?" she asked. 

      "M-my sk-kin," I really want to sleep. 

     "Okay I'm going to ask Robert for consent for some medicine to ease the pain for you, okay?" She tapped my hand as she waited for me to nod. After I acknowledged that she's leaving, she stepped out and started talking to Robert. 

I fell back into the pillows when the pain became too great for me to bear. I shouted in anguish, and gasped for air.

     "It's okay hun, you'll be okay," the nurse came back and held me down so I would stay still.

Within minutes, I whimpered objections as I began to feel drowsy again, this time drugs distorted what I experience normally. He gave consent to push me full of medicine. It's funny how if Aaron was in this situation, Robert wouldn't approve all the sedatives they're pumping into my veins. But still, I shouldn't be angry at how he plays favorites, I know I can't change it. I'm just frustrated because I feel nothing. The physical pain I endure reminds me that I'm human- but now that I'm completely numb I can do anything to myself and not experience any reprocussions. Robert has no idea how dangerous that is.

      But I guess keeping me quiet is better than having me scream and unsettle the other patients, or I would've protested Robert's consent.

The feeling of heavy anesthesia lingered with me, but I didn't dare close my eyes again. Instead, I widened them slightly so I look scared and alert. That isn't true, but the emotion I faked fit the situation. 

I should've felt scared and alone, I know that much. But, as much as I waited around, the realization with tears to follow of how isolated I am didn't come. I expected to be slightly impaired while the medicine wears off, so I'm just now beginning to feel curious to find out what else they did. How badly could I have managed to hurt myself in what must've been under a minute? And how did an infection manage to spread so quickly when my immune system is intact?

They're discussing diagnosis' for me with Robert, but I chose not to get further involved at the moment. I don't need to, and paying close attention would only hurt and disappoint me.

I heard conversations entirely in French, but because I hear the thoughts in English it's easier to retell in the latter. 

While I was weakened, all I could make myself do is sit myself up against the pillows.

I groaned as I heard a nurse come in. Their brains are full of information, and it's uncomfortable to be close to them. I regained my mental function quickly, it's just my body that lagged behind and moves as much as a sack of potatoes.

     "Hi love!" she greeted me. It's a different nurse I bet, maybe one from the pediatric ward.

     "Can you wiggle your toes for me?" she scrunched up her nose and spoke with a goofy tone- she thinks she's dealing with a child. 

     Still I listened, and slowly moved my toes and feet around. It took way too much energy to twitch my foot.

     "That's awesome!" she congratulated. 

     "What about your hands? Can you shake out all the wiggles in your hands?" I obeyed, and ignored her childish way of talking to me. 

     "Louis, you did awesome! I'm so proud of you!" she grinned. 

     "Can you tell me how old you are?" she questioned. 

     "I'm six," I mumbled.

     "You're the cutest six year old I've ever seen!" to anyone else, it would probably seem like she's lying, or crossing a line for insinuating that she thinks scars are cute. I know she is lying, but it still made me happy.

      I tried to smile, but it looks more like I'm in pain. 

     "Really?" I asked. I felt like I'm about to cry, my looks have never been given any attention other than pity.

     "Oh yeah! You have an adorable button nose, and the prettiest eyes ever." she booped my nose, and I giggled. I didn't feel happy, but I can't fight my body's natural function. Especially when the nurse sitting next to me is laughing and trying anything to get me to join in, I automatically began to mimic her.

     She rubbed my back as I calmed down, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. 

Even though I'm successfully breathing on my own, I feel as if I have been deprived of oxygen. As she noticed my struggle, she checked my vitals.

"Your heart rate is a bit slow, so I'm going to talk to your doctor about it." she waited for me to acknowledge her before she left.

"If you heard me, can you squeeze my hand?" she slipped her palm under mine. I twitched my fingers against her skin, and she looked me over before she turned to leave.

I want water. I can get over my phobia of anything that parallels what the bath looked like if I'm given something that will satiate me and soothe my throat. But I can't force the sound out to ask for it, I can't form the words. I croaked out the answer when she asked me how old I am, I even laughed. I can't do anything more when my throat is so dry.

I looked to the door in surprise as I heard Robert's thoughts getting louder. Which means it's safe for me to expect that he'll be coming in any minute, he's not thinking of me above anything else.

I'm not frightened, but I was put considerably more on edge. I still didn't want him to see me with bandages all over, I don't trust him. I probably won't confide anything in him for a long time.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Hey." he rubbed the back of his neck as he slowly sat down in the chair next to my bedside. He's timid, he doesn't know how to tell me what they did. He can't make himself say it.

His gait consists of long steps and has a lanky quality to it, much like himself.

"You're one tough kid," he remarked. For the love of god, just tell me what they had to do with me. Or think about it, I don't care either way. I think I deserve to know.

I thought about letting him know that I can't talk yet, but I would rather have him think that I'm ignoring him. He deserves it.

"The nurses said that it's going to be about two years before you fully recover," he sighed as he said that, but he doesn't look very sad.

"I've got to go make some calls, I'll be right back," he pat my hand before he walked out. I pleaded for him to give me more information, but he misunderstood my whining as begging for him to stay with me. Even if that's the case, he still left me alone.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I stepped out of the hospital doors to sit on the bench by the entrance. 

I sighed, then took out my phone to dial a number I didn't think I'll ever need. But, I made a promise to Aaron, and I need to honor it.

"I need to ask a favor." I tried my best to humble myself as I started the conversation. 

"I need you to pick up Aaron from school today." His mum was never completely out of his life, she's distanced by choice. Since the courts are bias toward the mothers, I only got custody because she said she didn't want him. If she chose to fight, I would surely lose my kid.

I pay her two hundred dollars alimony a month, but that's all we interact to do. I don't like asking her for favors, because she takes the opportunity to make sure I know how that one slip up makes me an unfit parent. 

And I can't handle hearing how my son should be taken away from me, the thought of him leaving like that makes my heart hurt.

"Can he read?" she chose to ask. I sighed, this isn't going to go anywhere good. What was I thinking? 

"He's practicing- he's working an hour a day on it and-" she cut me off to ask her question again. 

"Not well, I answered, defeated.

"Figure transportation out yourself then. It's not like I can drive across town on the tank of gas I have, it's like you forget that I'm hurting for money." as wretched as she's been to Aaron, I would give her more money to get on her feet if I was able. But we're just getting by ourselves as it is. 

"The check is coming, I mailed it yesterday. I don't have time to read the paper anymore if you would like the Help Needed section," I offered, and she accepted. I know that a subscription costs a lot of money so I shouldn't waste it, but I do go through it to find coupons on groceries. I just don't have the time to read the news anymore.

"Thank you," she swallowed her pride to say. I did have many reasons for severing our marriage, but I wanted to make sure it never became a toxic relationship. After all, I didn't leave her in the best place. She thought it would be better for her to move out after we decided we couldn't go on as husband and wife, and that led to her losing her job. 

Hence the judge saying I rightfully owe her alimony. Which I'm in agreement with, but when the post is late I don't deserve the angry calls I get from her. 

"Why can't you pick him up?" she asked. I sighed again, and looked at the ground. I shouldn't tell her why Louis is in the hospital before I tell him. He needs to know before anyone else.

"I'll rework my plans so I can. I thought- it's not important." I'm not about to tell her where I am, she would take it to court and twist my words so I seem worse than I am. I shouldn't tell her about Louis at all, I don't want an earful about how I adopted another kid before I could handle the one I have.

Funny how she says she's hurting for money, but can pay a lawyer thousands of dollars for the times she takes me to court. 

Click. How petty of her, she hung up on me. I respect the fact that she realized she's not the best parent for my kid and admitted it, but that doesn't excuse how cruel she is to him. 

Being a shitty parent doesn't mean you get an excuse to be an asshole.

I sighed and put my phone in my pocket. I rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands for a few seconds, then raised my head while running my fingers through my hair. 

     I couldn't make myself bring up visitation with her, she'll verbally abuse Aaron the entire time. I know he wants to see her, but I shouldn't be responsible for reparing the damage that her bullying will cause.

       
I slowly rose to my feet, and checked back in with the front desk to go see how Louis is doing.


	14. Caution

     "I checked with your doctor who performed your operation, and he said that the slow heart rate is nothing to worry about. But I'm still gonna be monitoring you until it comes back up, okay?" the nice and excited nurse came back in my room to hold my hand and tell me. 

      "Water?" I wheezed. 

     "Right now, I can get you some ice cubes to suck on if you'd like," she offered. I nodded, and she was back within the minute with them. 

     "You can always spit it out if you need to," she reminded me as I held the bowl in my lap. I stuck my tongue out and closed my swollen fingers around a cube, then plopped it on my tongue. 

      I couldn't talk while it melted, so while I waited I looked down at my fingers. Most of the bandages were taken off, but they are still awfully swollen. They look like sausage links, and my hand looks like its been blown up like a balloon.

     "The swelling will go down." the nurse anticipated my worry and pat my knee to calm me down.

     "Does your skin feel better?" she asked. 

     I don't feel anything, the numbness hasn't worn off yet.

     So, because she's been so nice to me, I nodded instead of mouthing off. 

     "I'm so glad! You're one tough kid!" normally, I get endlessly irritated when people say that to me. They state the obvious, like that'll make things better even though they don't do anything to help. But she calmed me down as she ran her fingers through my hair. 

     I reached for another ice cube to soothe my throat. I want water, but this is better than nothing. The solace an ice cube offers is better than feeling my throat dry out. 

     I looked over the inside of my arm. Bruises nearly covered it, I guess it's from where they missed the vein while trying to insert the IV. Maybe my vein rolled, or maybe they just couldn't find the right spot. Either way, my arms look worse than they already are. I was probably squirming, that's most likely why they had the problem. 

     The more I look at myself, the more I realize how enlarged my limbs are. It's the worst in my hands, but I used to be able to close my pinky finger and thumb around my wrist. Now, my middle finger and my thumb just barely touched. 

     "It'll go down, it's just the effect of one of the painkillers. Give it a few hours, you can rest until then," she suggested. 

     "I don't want to close my eyes," I told her. 

     "Why not?" she asked. I sighed, I feel badly that I can't tell her the truth.

     "Because it makes my head hurt. Trying to fall asleep... yeah," I stumbled over what emotion I'm trying to communicate. She nodded, and pretended that she could actually understand that mess.

     "Your head still hurts?" she furrowed her brows together as she checked if the drip is working. 

      "No- it's like a pressure, I just have a headache. It's fine, it's better than before," I rushed to explain. 

     "Hun that sounds serious, I'm gonna order a quick scan for you, okay?" she was on her way out, until I stopped her. 

     "No!" she waited until I finished my coughing fit so I could explain myself. 

     I don't want it to be more money for Robert's insurance, mostly because I probably don't have any with him yet. I also don't want this nurse wasting her time while she scratches her head and tries to figure out what's wrong with me, she has other patients to attend to. 

     I melted an ice cube on my tongue before speaking again. I don't want to put too much stress on my throat when it still feels so fragile, I've probably done irreparable damage when I was kidnapped and screamed that afternoon.

      "If it gets worse you can do a scan, but please not now," I begged her. She sighed. 

     "I'll talk to your doctor if that's a symptom of the medicine as well. If it is, I trust you to tell me if it gets worse," she stood up before explaining all the options. 

     "But what if it's not?" I questioned. 

     "If it's not, well then we have nothing to worry about. But it is serious, so I'm going to talk to your doctor about it," she announced. I nodded. 

     "You know where the call button is?" I know she means "call the nurses if you need help", even though she didn't specify. I should've known that's what it is, but I don't have that much live experience yet.

     "Yeah, I'm good," I told her, even though my fingers are too distended to press the button. Surprisingly, she didn't notice.

     "Okay, I'll be right back," she promised. Unlike Robert, by "right back", the nurse meant within a minute. He either thought or said "right back", and has been gone for twenty minutes now. It's not like I care, I'm not waiting on him to come back. I don't need him here, and I especially do not need him now.

     After Robert finished his crucial phone call, he peeked in my room. He smiled once he saw me wide awake, and sat by my side.

     Robert can smile and laugh all he wants, but he won't get me to laugh with him like the nurse did.

     I feel selfish, I know he was calling his wife to honor his promise to Aaron, and here I am wishing he spends all his time with me. How stupid! But, in my defense, he didn't ask her about visitation. So, all that time and his word isn't good.

     You scared me. He thought, amoung other things. Everything else is about my physical condition, which I'm still dense and chose not to focus on. I should be allowed to be a stubborn moron with one topic at least.

      I want to ignore it completely, but those thoughts are immovable. I feel fine considering the circumstances, and I don't want to think about what could've happened or how it could be worse. 

     I'm alive, and don't want to dwell on how close I am to the opposite. 

     Robert sighed instead of vocalizing anything. He isn't going to tell me what happened.

      He lowered his head and arched his back. He rest his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his palms. He placed his hands over his mouth and sighed in them, then moved his head down to rub his eyes.

     "I care about you, Louis," he told me once he raised his head. 

Liar. He wants me to get well to serve him and his organization, he doesn't give a damn about me.

     My reaction is a blur, but I knew what he's thinking directly after the words left his lips. 

     He's waiting for me to say something, or at least nod to acknowledge him. But I couldn't. 

     Even though he's lying, I feel overtaken with fear. As soon as you care about something, you start getting attached to it. And honestly, if I can't handle this now, I could die at any moment.

     "Why?" I croaked, I was doe-eyed and the color flushed out of my face. 

     I'm sure I didn't mean to ask that, and if I had time to evaluate every scenario and make a plan I would've come up with a better response. A logical response. But I asked out of my terror of being cared for. There's nothing about me to care about, and it freaks me out when humans do illogical things like this. 

     Just like a machine. I shuddered, there are more similarities than differences. 

     I'm not claiming I'm a robot, I'm just desperately trying to convince myself I don't have the mind of one. 

     "Because-" Robert sighed. Beyond defying the rules, he couldn't even offer me an explanation. 

I took a deep breath and retraced the events. He had no motivation to lie, unless someone put him up to it? But who? No one he knows is smart enough to command Robert on how to manipulate me that intricately. I swallowed the lump in my parched throat, and stared at him.

     "I want the best for you, and I want to do everything in my power to help you feel okay," he said after a moment to collect his thoughts. But that isn't why he cares about me, those were things he vows to do because he allegedly cares about me. 

     I should just drop it, and believe what he says without a reason. However, that would lead to blind following of whatever he does, and I can't do that. I seriously distrust people and their actions, with good reason.

     I sighed as the only audible response to his remark. It's the only thing I could do before I have something to drink to quench my thirst.

     I wrung my hands out in each other, and took a shaky deep breath.

     He's thinking about Aaron right now. I learned that Aaron's in a small class. And since some of the students have separation anxiety from their family during the school day, they issue iPads to enable communication. Also, to aide in communication between the students and the teachers when there's a problem, but apparently Aaron hasn't needed to use that feature for about two years.

Robert answered the Face-time call from him before I could object.

     "Why are you in the cool down seat?" Robert inquired after looking at the sign on the wall. At first I was confused beyond belief. But then, I found that "the cool down seat" is just where teachers put the misbehaving students until they calm down enough to be reasoned with. 

     "I got mad at Jeremy." Aaron shrugged. He didn't use words like "furious, aggravated, infuriated" or even "frustrated" or "angry"- they're all summed up under "mad". Aaron brings a sense of simplicity to his thoughts with that mentality, but they are gorgeous and vibrant despite their minimalist qualities.

     "Why?" Robert's curiosity got the best of him, and he inquired before he evaluated what the appropriate response as an adult and a parent would've been. 

     "He threw crayons at me," Aaron answered only what he's been asked, no more. 

     "Did you yell?" Robert asked, and a tone of suspicion crept into his tone.. Aaron shook his head, and Robert commended him.

     "Ms.Carol put me here so I wouldn't yell," he clarified. Apparently, Aaron has been in that chair a lot because he used to hit people that made him angry. 

     I looked like a deer in the headlights when Robert pointed the camera at me. I should've known that it was coming, but I was so involved in what Aaron was thinking that I didn't pay attention to anything else. What can I say, he fascinates me.

     "Hi Louis!" Aaron is beaming. I wanted to smile as well and actually tried, but it seems like the scars on my face started to hurt at just the thought of being happy.

      I shifted my position, and he gasped-he figured out I'm in the hospital. He saw the gown when I picked up the call, and recently I had unintentionally let him see the admittance bracelet on my wrist. 

     "Louis, you're sick!" he looked like he's on the brink of tears. I just shrugged in response, I still didn't want to deal with how ill I was in the head and body. 

     "I'll be fine," I assured him. I don't think I lied, because I didn't get the twang of guilt you feel in the pit of your stomach when you tell a lie.

     I hope I didn't lie to him, I honestly don't know. I've been involuntarily ignoring my emotions for about a week, so I'm unable to distinguish the difference between healthy, and not. 

     I feel just fine now, but I'm also on some heavy pain killers. I guess the difference between fine and numb is even harder to distinguish.


	15. Lonely

"What do you want to do after school today?" Aaron asked. I looked to Robert, and he sighed. 

He reached for the phone to explain, and I opened my fingers so he could take it out of my hands.

"Bud, Louis is spending the night here. The nurses and doctors want to make sure he's okay," he oversimplified what they told him to dull the reality of how mentally ill I am. 

"But he said he'll be fine!" Aaron cried out. He sounds really upset that I won't be there, I can't believe my presence actually means something to him.

"He knows himself better than I do- I just want to make sure for myself that he's fine," Robert rushed to calm him down.

To the best of my ability, I tuned out. I didn't like Aaron upsetting himself over me, and tried to refuse myself the reality that he is anything but happy all the time. Maybe if I deny these simple truths enough, they'll start being lies like I want them to be.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

My mind is in pieces. I don't feel strong, I feel like a broken mirror. There's an increasing pressure in my head which stems from the conflict between my bodies capability and my mind, but outside of that, I just don't feel. My skin should still be burning, but it's numb and so cold. 

I know pain (in little doses at a time) is good- it helps to notify you what's dangerous to your health so you don't go near it again. Reaction to stimuli is beneficial, it helps you maintain homeostasis. While not feeling the constant agitation of cracked and bleeding skin is bliss in most aspects, I have reason to be worried. 

What's more concerning is that Robert has to be with Aaron tonight, meaning I'll be alone. I have no idea what's going to happen, and that is mortifying to me. 

Louis? Robert tapped my arm and thought. 

I didn't respond, I just looked up at him and readied myself to listen to what he has to say. 

"I've got to go pick Aaron up from school. I can be back in about an hour if you need me." he was honest in what he said, but he kept thinking a complicated version of just please, don't need me. 

"I'm fine. Thank you," I told him. He nodded, and walked out of the room. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"I'm so sorry." I slowed my gait from a jog to a hurried walk as I entered Aaron's classroom.

"Go get your stuff together hun." his teacher tapped his shoulder and he skipped off to his locker. 

She moved to the threshold of the door to keep an eye on him, but still smiled at me.

"It's no trouble! Though, after he got to talk to you Aaron seemed very upset, is it school related?" his teacher is the sweetest and most compassionate for all her students. 

"Oh- no, one of his best friends fell very ill this morning." I sighed, and his teacher nodded in knowing empathy. 

"Ah, I understand. Sickness can be very trying, for everyone involved. If there's anything I or any of the school staff can do to help, just let us know." she smiled warmly once again as Aaron came back in the room. 

"Did you get all your things?" she kneeled down to ask, and Aaron nodded. 

"And did you shut your locker all the way?" she questioned. To that, Aaron nodded happily.

"I heard it click," he remarked.

     "Once you hear it click, it's shut all the way," he recited.

"Alright, nice job!" she commended him, and gave him a high five. 

"Have a good rest of your night, okay?" she told Aaron as she was standing up. 

"You as well, Mr.Robert." she shook my hand, and I reciprocated the action. 

"Oh, Robert is fine." she nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'll remember that." she smiled. 

Aaron waved goodbye as we started walking, and his teacher did the same. 

As we were walking down the hallway, he grabbed and tugged on my sleeve. 

"Daddy can I see Louis, please?" he asked. I sighed, and stayed silent as I held the door open for him.

     We stopped on the sidewalk as I squatted down to help him zip his jacket up, and I held his hand in mine as we crossed the asphalt parking lot. 

"Tomorrow," I said with certainty, even though I'm not sure Louis is healing. He could get so much worse between now and then, and I have no way to tell. 

Aaron started to whine, but I didn't get agitated as much as upset for him.

But as much as I want to cave in to his wants and give him the world, I couldn't. Louis needs the time without disturbances to recover. 

"Can you go home and get your homework done for me?" I asked him. Aaron sniffled, and furrowed his brow. 

"Daddy, it's Friday. There's no homework on Fridays." at that, I nodded and apologized for getting myself confused about the day. 

"Right, right," I told myself as I made sure Aaron buckled himself in. 

The obvious truth is, I'm a little frazzled. I'm obviously shaken about what Louis has been through, and I'll surely get reprimanded by my superiors when I return to work. And don't get me wrong I want the best for Aaron, but I don't think I'm ready to do that for him if that includes him spending time with his mum. He's been talking about her increasingly.

I'm just trying to keep my head above water. 

From what I saw in my rear view mirror, Aaron stared out the window for the entire duration of the ride. It isn't very long, only two miles. 

As we entered the house my phone started to ring, and at the sight of the caller ID I thought it best to shoo Aaron upstairs before I answer it.

"Wait- so where is he now?" I'm being contacted by the front desk at the hospital, and I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that it's not good news. 

"We transferred him to the psychiatric hospital for a few days- you said on the forms you preferred that over excessive use of drugs." I sighed, but thanked them. 

They spoke entirely in French and very quickly, so I did miss some words here and there. When I took it a year ago, I passed the fluency test with flying colors and became officially multilingual- but I miss little words like prepositions from time to time. I piece it together eventually, but it takes me a bit.

I hung up the call, still in a state of shock.

He's gonna be okay. I kept repeating to myself. Because getting negative won't only diminish my sense of positivity, it'll have a negative effect on Louis and Aaron as well. Even though Louis is probably able to detect my doubt, encouragement is key. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Daddy, what's for dinner?" Aaron skipped down the stairs and asked. I don't have the time, Jesus Christ. 

"You got your nap?" I asked, and he nodded. I didn't like answering his questions with other questions, but I have to make sure he had one. I can let it slide next year, in third year he won't need one and I can let it go. 

"What are you thinking of?" I could give Aaron what he wants for dinner tonight, in hopes to take away from the fact that Louis will not be in his company tonight. 

"I want... a..." he trailed off, and grinned at me. I did a little drum roll, and he giggled. 

"Peanut butter sandwich!" he threw his arms up, and I nodded as I stood up. 

"You got it bud." I said as I got out the bread to slice. The wheat bread that's pre sliced in the store is great I'm sure, I'd just rather make it myself so I know what goes in it. I don't think of myself as a complete health nut, not by a long shot, but the amount of preservatives in some foods is astonishing. 

"Do you want honey with it, or jelly?" I asked, Aaron promptly shook his head. 

"Too sticky." he wrinkled up his nose as I nodded in acknowledgement. 

"Want me to cut the crusts off?" I asked him, and he nodded. He twisted his feet together under the chair, and gently kicked them back and forth. 

"Alright Ni, what fruit do you want with it?" I questioned.

"Um, I'm not sure..." he scratched the back of his neck as he walked up to the open fridge to survey what we had. 

"Mango!" he gasped in happiness as he saw the container of the orange fruit. I bought it pre-cut, because I always worry I won't remove the whole seed if I cut it. Then my irrational fear leads to me scaring myself thinking of Aaron choking on something that's because of my negligence. So, I just spend a little more and buy it pre made.

"You got it." I smiled to myself as I put the remaining slices on the plate. 

Aaron waited patiently at the table for dinner, and thanked me as I gave it to him with a cup of milk. 

"I'm going to bring Emma inside. I'll be right back, okay?" I tapped on his shoulder and said, and he nodded. 

I went out the back door, and whistled. I heard Emma come running, and I kneeled down to pet her to commend her obedience. She's a very good dog, Aaron trained her well. 

I pat my thigh a couple of times, and she was following me to her food bowl. I refilled both her water and food, and she wagged her tail in excitement.

"Alright bud, eight thirty bedtime sound fair?" I asked him as I sat down across from him. 

Normally it's strictly eight, but on Fridays I'm a little more lenient. Saturdays are his rest days, so he didn't need to be up early for anything. 

I gently reprimanded him for trying to answer me with his mouth full, and reminded him that I'm okay waiting a few seconds while he swallowed. And then that was shortly followed by the promise that manners and politeness truly do matter as skills in real life, Aaron doubts me about that sometimes.

I took his silence as a 'yes'. Even if he isn't comfortable with eight thirty exactly, he never ever stays up past nine. I'm not quite sure why, he just doesn't. So, it wouldn't be that catastrophic if he wanted eight thirty five instead.

"Let's practice reading after your bath, okay?" I asked. He groaned, the two things he hated the most were in one sentence. 

"I hate reading." he grumbled. I understood that every kid goes through a phase where reading is tough, and they therefore don't like it and don't wish to do it. But Aaron is falling farther behind in that aspect, his "phase" is becoming a habit. 

I know it's difficult for him to read and understand. But I truly believe he can get on top of it. 

"Practice makes perfect- you'll be the best reader one day." I promised. While I have faith that he will learn and conquer the skill, I left my assertion vague for a reason. 

"No I'll never be perfect! And I don't want to practice!" he crossed his arms across his chest and scowled at me. 

"We'll do it together after your bath. I'm not negotiating with you on this," I said calmly. It seemed that his fit is over, they're never long. He also knows that when my tone of voice gets as peaceful but on edge as it was when I just spoke, that he shouldn't cross me. 

One day, he'll thank me. Or maybe just think of me fondly as he wins some literature award. 

I'm doing this for his own good.


	16. Psych ward

"We've gotten orders to discharge him to the Psych ward, get him prepped." I tensed as I heard the doctors conversing outside my door.

"But it's A.M.A! We have to make sure his heart rate normalizes first!" the nurse objected, bringing up the fact that releasing an ill patient is against medical advice.

"He's not showing any other symptoms of Bradycardia, there's no reason to keep him here for that. Besides, they provided documentation that they're his guardian, so we have to listen to their orders," the doctor further explained his reasoning. 

"But-" the nurse tried to protest again, but the doctor interrupted her.

"We have to respect their wishes." the doctor sighed.

"He could die," the nurse whispered. I tried to situate myself so I could read their lips, but the doctor saw me move. He moved the nurse out of the way, and hushed her as he confirmed that I'm awake. 

I didn't think too closely about who would work so hard to fabricate such a lie to prove they're my guardian, especially because I don't remember who my parents are to prove them wrong. I just got nervous because whoever it is really wants me in the Psych ward, and if it is Damian, he could be waiting for me. I finally am in a place where I'm safe, and I have to leave.

"You're awake!" a nurse smiled as she walked to be by my side. 

Let's get you unhooked She moved her fingers to my head to undo the straps that have been holding the intubation work in place. I rolled my head to the side to look at her, and she was grinning. She has a look of gentleness and sympathy in her eyes, she knows the consequences of what she's going to do to me.

"You should be able to talk now, can you tell me your name?" she questioned.

"Shh, it's okay," she put her hands up slowly like she was surrendering as I rolled my shoulders forward at her recent thought.

You need to go to the Psych ward I began to whine in protest, even though I knew it was coming.

"It's okay love, we'll take good care of you," she assured.

"We have to take you somewhere else, can you walk down the hall with me?" she reached for my bandaged hand. They didn't use medicated gauze because they feared that it would weep to the burns, which would hurt like hell when I have to take it off.

She never told me where we were going, and I never figured out if she knew that I could read her mind.

I groaned as we stepped through the glass sliding doors, and squeezed her hand I was holding as hard as I could.

"Be gentle with him, okay? He seized once while in recovery, watch his breathing," the nurse instructed of the Psych ward security guards that were about to pat me down. I pieced together that I had been given Magnesium to end the seizure, but I could stop breathing at any moment if it relaxes my Diaphragm too much.

"Take things slowly, he's still pretty shaken up." she looked down at me, and saw that I'm trembling.

She wished me well, then left the security guards to do their work. 

"I've already been checked," I mumbled. As you enter the hospital, they remove any dangerous items you have.

"Kid, we're just doing our jobs." they shrugged in indifference to my apprehension.

I was silent after that, and walked wherever they pushed me to go.

"Hun, you can't cross the red line," the nurses scolded me, and pointed to a red line I carelessly stepped over.

"Can I have some water?" I asked after I moved back into the acceptable range. If we get too close to the nurses station, they fear we would somehow pry open the lock box and down a lethal amount of sedatives.

"Of course," they gave me a plastic cup full of water, and readied themselves to watch me drink it to make sure I wasn't trying to choke myself on it.

They're really paranoid people will harm themselves, so they took our shoelaces and belts (even though at this point I didn't have either of them) and other loose clothing items, then switched our clothes for a grey uniform type thing. Upon arrival they took anything we had that could possibly be used as a weapon and locked it away. They labeled them as "sharps", and we could earn the privilege to use them.

And based on thoughts, I also know that we don't have private bathrooms. They chaperone our showers and talk to us through the curtain during them to make sure we aren't trying to drown in the water or poison ourselves by drinking the soap. I actually don't mind this too much, because of the thirty minute checkups it's not like we're alone in our rooms either. Better said, I didn't mind the concept. Tonight I'm taking my first shower here and since Damian, and I'm honestly very nervous. I can barely drink water, what will I do when I'm immersed in it?

In attempt to calm myself down, I reminded myself what else is here. There's a common room that we are strongly encouraged to meet in for group seminars, but I opted out because moving hurts my skin. Also, getting closer to the screaming thoughts will do me more harm than good.

There are no quiet thoughts, everyone here has voices shrieking on in their heads. And while I'm so sorry they have to go through that, it amplifies about fifty times for each person in my mind.

The nurses strictly enforce assigned times to sleep as well, but I have more trouble with that then I'd care to go into at the moment.

I looked down at the cup full of the liquid.

I took a deep breath. It's hydrating- it'll help you. It's NOT the same liquid that got you here. My own thoughts commanded me to drink it, but they were quickly drowned out by the multitude of others.

"It's not the same as the bath," I quietly whispered to myself. Apparently I'm not as quiet as I thought, because I didn't have to look up to know the nurses heard me. They didn't react as negatively as I expected, it's behavior they've seen before.

I closed my eyes as my muscles finally obeyed my mind to down the fluid in the cup.

"Thank you," I said as I handed them the garbage. They took trash outside of the ward because if someone goes through the trash, they could attempt suicide by making a noose out of a banana peel. Those are the nurses thoughts of course, not my own.

I kept my head down as I walked back into my room. I can't take in settings very well, or the situation with Robert that landed me here will repeat itself. Depending on the severity, it might even kill me.

I have a frightening indifference to the thought.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°  
"Do you want to go play some games with your friends?" they say 'friends' instead of 'patients' because they think I'm afraid of being here. Really, they're people that need help, realized they need help by one way or another, and are now seeking it. That's the fact, it's not scary. Honestly, I'm probably one of the most dangerous people here. I was conditioned to think that, but now I fully believe it.

Anyway, they are not my friends. They're strangers to me, even though I know exactly how each and every one of their minds work without even having to introduce myself.

Even though I'll always answer the same way, the nurses still ask at every opportunity they can to get me to socialize. And I want to, hence the aforementioned theory of mine that without human interaction, I would go fully insane.

But I don't meet new people. I like my solitude too much to jeopardize the tranquility I feel when I'm alone.

Wrong word. Oh, peace is such an incorrect feeling to describe the trauma I am catapulted into in the presence of silence. How was I even delusional enough to think it was an accurate summary in the first place?

I practically have the whole world of dictionaries at my finger tips, and the skills to translate anything I know to French, or any language I need given the situation and condition. But, I'm still at a loss to find the correct word.

It's agonizing, but it's distant at the same time. Even though I'm exceptionally verbose, it's beyond description.

For lack of something better to do once the nurse finally gave up on me and left, I looked out the Plexiglas window, down at the people stalling and milling about on the sidewalk below. I sat down on the floor instead of my bed, and tucked my knees up to my chest.

The reinforced product is blurry, made with materials to make sure its residents don't try to throw themselves out of it.

I heard the nurses excited voices through the thin walls as they started the group seminar.

"Louis?" another nurse rapped her knuckles on the empty threshold where the door would've been.

"I have a friend out there, he helps me." I have a faraway tone in my voice, and I didn't bother about giving her eye contact either. I want her to leave. But I also want to give her something I look positively towards.

I glared at her as a thought flashed through her head, which is that Aaron is imaginary.

I am livid, and she knows it. But she still walked towards me, and cautiously pat my back.

"This isn't forever. You'll see him again soon," she reassured me despite her lingering doubt.

"He's real! He's out there, why do you think I would lie?" I shouted. She looked taken aback by my arbitrary outburst, but she stayed in my company.

"Leave!" I commanded in the silence when she didn't respond.

Everything flooded back into my limited memory, and it made me cry.

"Louis, do you think you need to spend some time in the quiet room?" she questioned.

"We care about you here, and we want to make sure you heal," she offered. I sniffled as I prepared myself to listen to her.

I shook my head as an answer to her question. I already know what the quiet room is, and I could just imagine myself in it.

As nice as I'm sure the people themselves are, getting closer than I already was to their minds felt like it made mine shatter into irreparable shards. It'll drive me mad, that's how I'll land in the quiet room.

I'll spend the entire night screaming and throwing myself against the padded wall, while being plunged into the searing pain moving causes. I'll open my mouth so wide, my facial blood will be a substantial addition to the experience.

     Just by looking at it I could guess that the cloth used to pad the walls will aggravate my skin- it'll dig through the grey cloth and into my wounded flesh like fish hooks.

As much as I imagined how being in the quiet room will be, I didn't want to go. I have valid reasons to dislike being trapped.

     When I do get put in the quiet room, I learned that I should actually be quiet. Screaming does no use except unsettle the other patients, and it's not like wasting my voice and hurting my skin is going to help get me out of here any sooner. I'll probably disregard that rationale as soon as I lose my temper, but for now I looked to logic and reason. Expressing my bouts of rage is not going to be in my best intrest.

If you do something wrong and problematic - like screaming, hitting, disobeying, etcetera (basically everything I did nonstop the first day), that means they add more time to your stay.

Everyone starts out with an assigned week, and they add or subtract more time when they deem it necessary.

Everyone has motivation to get out of here. While we all realize we're here to heal, (which we try our best to-but we're all damaged goods) we all have someone or something outside to look forward to besides health.

"Do you want to take a warm shower? Maybe that'll help?" she never said "hot", as that word implies high temperatures and could translate as her condoning performing self injurious tasks like burning my skin. But that's either a job requirement or she's conditioned to say that, because I'm desperately trying to avoid burning myself as it is.

"Cold," I said simply, and she smiled as she guided me to the three corner shower behind a curtain in my room. That's the bathroom, and the curtain is nearly see through so we couldn't try anything. Not totally translucent, but just enough to plainly see what our silhouettes are doing. And that's all the nurses need to know when checking up.

She helped me strip out of my clothes, but didn't want to touch my bare skin to lead me into the shower. It looks horrendous to her. It's the most hideous, repulsive thing she has ever seen.

It was only there for half a second, maybe. But I still caught a few of her thoughts about it that amused me: one, that I'm possessed. Two, that I'm a demon, and three, that I'm a monster. The former made me laugh, while the latter made me contemplate. And we all know how that's never good.

"Take the time you need," she invited as she sat down on the toilet seat. I crossed my hands over my chest and shuddered, I felt goosebumps rise on my naked skin as my hairs stood up. I was confronting my greatest fear at the moment, something that's easily identical to what caused me so much trauma.

My knees nearly buckled as I stepped in, I was crying silently and shaking.

The nurse turned on the water, she assumed that I was ready. But it was before I could protest, and soon liquid that's much too hot for my sensitive skin pounded down all around me.

I clamped my hands to my ears and started screaming.


	17. Separation

    "Alright come on." the nurse turned off the water and rushed me onto the bathmat. I whimpered as she wrapped a towel around so tightly that she practically swaddled me. The cloth chafed against my shoulders, but even that did not compare to the awful moment seconds ago.

     "Baths from now on," she mumbled as I shivered.

     I sniffled away the last of my tears, but with the recent water on my face it's hard to tell that I was crying in the first place. Yes my eyes are reddened, but so is every inch of my skin, so it's not like they stuck out. 

     Or, what likely happened is that she noticed I was gasping for breath after I finished sobbing, but hid behind the former facts so she didn't have to go out of her way. 

     I sat on my bed with the towel around me as she slowly took a hand towel to dry off my hair. 

      "What can I do to help you feel healthy again?" she asked, I know it's an empty gesture. She kept asking me questions in my silence. They're relentless, and the tyrant never let up. 

     "Let me talk to Aar-Robert. Please." I was quick to correct myself. I desperately want to see Aaron, but not as I am now. Also, the politeness I decided to add in the end is substance for an early release.

     "Just a second." she smiled as she walked out of my room, I already know what she's going to do.

     She's going to buy me minutes on the landline. But I also collected that she wants to keep it a surprise, so I kept quiet about my knowledge. 

     "You know their number?" she asked. I shook my head, and she nodded in sympathy. If I can barely remember my name, how am I supposed to remember a phone number?

     "Alright I'm going to go look in the phone book, I'll be right back," she said as she began to stand. 

     "You can bring it in here, I'm not going to plan 'death by paper cut'," I said, I'm only partially joking. 

     "Haha! Just protocol, silly." she smiled as she just witnessed what the nurses here referred to as "glimmers of the real me". They're positive things, and could possibly contribute to an early release situation. 

     After a few minutes, I heard the nurse greet Robert over the phone. 

     "Yes, Louis is - doing his best. Would you like to speak with him?" she asked. Her approaching footsteps into my room quickly revealed his answer. 

     "Aren't you at work right now?" I'm on the brink of tears, once again I don't know why. I didn't feel sad.

     "Yes," Robert answered shortly. His thoughts don't match his tone, but I still I'm quick to think that he's angry with me. He didn't provide evidence by thought, but I have a feeling.

     "I'm sorry about this," I apologized, even though he could be the one who ordered them to transfer me here.

     "No need to be," he responded curtly. 

     "Um, h-how's Aaron?" I already apologized in attempts to placate his agitation, I don't know what else to do. He's not hanging up the phone, so I feel the need to continue the conversation.

     "He's fine." Robert thought just like he always does, but he sounds very angry with me.   
   
     So, I decided to ask him. 

     "Louis I'm not- when do you think you'll be back?" he abruptly questioned. I believe I actually widened my eyes at the request for that information, which I didn't even know the answer to. I thought he would know, especially if he orchestrated this whole thing.

     The phone volume is on speakerphone, so the nurses can make sure we're not planning anything that'll harm our health. Things like drug deals, asking people to bring shivs into the ward, some things I haven't done here. When the nurse heard Robert's inquiry, I looked up at her for an answer. She would know better than I do, anyway.

     Her face clouded over as she thought, and looked to the floor to escape my gaze. 

     I didn't get any information about an answer. 

     "I've gotta go," I quietly answered after there was an unbearable static silence on our end of the conversation. 

     "You had seven more minutes?" the nurse questioned why I hung up so early, and I shrugged. 

     I'm sure she didn't appreciate me using her gift that way. 

     "Thank you for the present- I do have someone else I want to call to use the rest," I assured her. I don't know why I didn't just use his name, I've already mentioned him. I guess I just figured that she didn't deem it important to remember, even though I knew she did anyway. 

     She silently offered me the phone again, and I shook my head. 

     "He's busy now. Besides, I wouldn't know who to call to reach him." I looked out the window as I said that. 

     "Louis, can I ask you a few more things before I go?" she questioned as she moved closer to me again. I looked her up and down with a subtle look of warning on my face, but I complied. I know she's shocked at how "advanced" I am. I basically have every capability of a twenty five year old man - that's age when the brain fully develops. Of course, not physically, but that's besides the point. 

     She helped me change into my clothes, and I assumed my earlier position.

     "Are you calm right now?" is her first inquiry. 

     "Yeah, guess I am. Why?" I'm trying to keep up conversation, which is another thing that can contribute to early release time. But I just led myself into another question that I didn't want to answer.

     "Because I really want you to come to the group seminar today." at that, I pat the floor next to me so I could explain. It's a long story, which is longer if I remember all of it, but I want her to be sitting down before she thinks I'm absolutely insane. 

     "You've noticed these." I started off with pointing at the X that made its way on my face through unwanted scarification. 

     She nodded, and wondered where the hell this is going. 

       "And these?" I asked her, pulling up my long sleeves to show her the chemical burns. I asked, because it's quite easy to hide them in my current outfit. 

     She nodded again, and took a deep breath. 

     "A few days ago, maybe a week- do you know Damian?" I changed the course of my story because I thought he might have visited here. He is definitely crazy enough for it.  
   
     The nurse immediately thought to ask me for a last name, but I don't know it. Not from his thoughts, he isn't thinking about anything. 

     "When would he have been here?" she questioned. But I didn't know that either- not even from the people that know him. 

     "I'll check the records. I might find something, Damian isn't a very common name," she reasoned. I hoped that since he has an established relationship with people here, that he would be committed here as well.

     Or, instead of working through every impulse like you would here, he just roams the streets. And whenever he feels like it, he would abduct a girl or a little kid. Maybe even kill them, depending on what he's thinking. As I thought that through, I realized that Damian would not come here for help. Still, I didn't stop the nurse from getting up to check. I want more time alone.

     "Tell me your story after, okay? I want to listen," every nurse says that when we're just about to open up about our past, but she sounded more genuine about her interest.

     "Wait- do you have pictures? You took pictures of me when I came in," I asked. I thought I could pick him out of a crowd- I really believed my memory is that great. 

     "We did start that, but only last year. Tell me what he looks like, and I'll try to find him," she offered, but I shook my head. For all I know, he could've been here last year, but I don't remember at all what he looks like. 

     And that's mortifying, because he'll know how to find me forever. 

     "Alright," she said while getting up. "I'll go have a look." she smiled warmly at me, then turned to leave. 

     The truth bared its ugly face at me just enough for me to start crying. 

     The reason I don't know if Damian was thinking anything was not because he's idle, as I was stupid enough to think; it's because he's found a way to manipulate me so he's the only one I can't know things about. Him, or any of my family (I was only truly shaken about the loss of my mummy- but when the rest were gone to me, they were only names. I knew nothing about them, so why should I care?) are probably the most important people to know things about - and I couldn't make myself remember. 

     I slowly moved myself to the corner of the room by the foggy window. I brought my knees up to my chest, and noticed the pristine silence of the room. Light was pouring in through the window and I could hear the nurses voices outside my door. But, I could also hear the birds chirping, which is nice. 

     I sighed before I put my head between my knees and wrapped my arms around my ankles. There's a growing pressure in my chest, and my stomach dropped. A gigantic wave of sadness relentlessly washed over me, which hurt my throat as I bawled and left me gasping for breath as the tears freely ran down my face. 

     "Louis?" the nurse asked as she didn't see me when she first entered the room. 

     I sniffled as I put my hand up to notify her of my position. 

     "Hun, do you need a hug?" she questioned. I didn't care about the consequences, I leapt into her arms. 

       "Sh-h-h, it's okay." she treats me like a child, but I actually don't mind. I feel weak like one, and at least for the moment I was brought down to earth to realize my age. 

     "Is this about the group seminar?" she asked as I broke away. I shook my head, and she breathed a sigh of relief. I know that if I nodded, she would want to tell me that "I didn't have to go"- but technically, she isn't allowed to encourage the "optional" aspect of it. 

     "Damian- was he here?" I sniffled as I tried to control my sudden depression. 

     "I didn't find anything, I'm sorry Louis." she offered me her hand to hold. I slowly reached my shaky hand out to take it, and she used her gentle grip she just established to sit me down on my bed. 

     "What about him are you so worried about?" I would've gotten mad at her for prying, but I did start to tell her. 

       "He did this t-to me. H-he t-took me f-from m-y mummy." my teeth were nearly chattering. 

     I heard a few other nurses excitedly start the group seminar for today. 

       The nurse that I'm talking to looked so surprised at the sudden and awful reveal of my past. 

       She thought a few things in condolence, but to her "I'm so very sorry that happened, oh god" is not sincere enough for this situation. 

     "I don't even remember her, really." I shrugged, I kept to make her feel less guilty. 

     "Promise me you won't think I'm crazy about what- never mind, never mind," I couldn't tell her, or anyone yet. I'm sure she gets a lot of people that act and claim they are supernatural, and there hasn't been a true case yet. 

     "Louis whatever you have to tell me, I'll understand. I can promise you that." I laughed internally about the beautiful sidestepping of the promise I asked her to make. 

     "You're thinking that I'm about to plan Damian's death. Also about coming home to your husband, Phillip. And getting to play soccer with your son, Grayson. And let him win, because Phillip called you and said that Grayson had a rough day at school today. You're comforting me like I was Grayson, we're the same age," I whispered. And just like that, the only nurse that cared about me fell backwards and ran out of my room. I don't blame her for treating me like she did, humans are weird. If they're away from their kid too long they do strange things. But I like the attention, guess I really am crazy.

     I had just stood in my own way and ruined the only chance I had at leaving. Now whenever she looks at me she's going to think about how much of a freak I am instead of all the manners I used and so on. 

       I could tell she wasn't impressed when I first started trying to tell her in the best way I knew how- because she's talked to the nurses about Phillip and figured I just overheard. 

     But when I got to her afternoon plans, she grew concerned and afraid. Every human is like that, scared of what's different. 

                      Scared of me.


	18. Discussion

     Why am I doing what I was about to do? Not even I could validate my own actions at the moment, and I have experience beyond my years at such things like long winded and verbosely worded explanations of how I act and why. 

     I feel like I'm on a death march into the living room. I could turn around now and no one would've seen me, I'm shielded by the protective darkness of the hallway.

"Louis! So glad you could join us." a nurse happily ruined my chance of escape, just as I started to regret my choice to leave my room for anything but meals. And while drinking the water is hard, getting up has become a minor torment that I don't concern myself with anymore.

     They led me to a seat in the giant circle, which faced everyone and had everyone be able to stare and gawk at me and my wounds.

      "Alright, if we could just get Sarah, we'll have everyone," a nurse remarked to herself, and sighed after she did. 

     "I'll go try," another nurse offered. I never cared to learn their names, because hopefully I won't be here very long to need them. They almost look the same to me. They all have the same uniform down to the details like socks, and their hair tied back. Most of them are brunettes, and impossible to tell the difference between if you only had to judge by the back of their heads. Besides, they all have that same fake empathetic tone of voice. 

      Sarah is going to be even harder to get out here. She got here for intense psychological damage, and never thought about it further than that. We have rooms next to each other, I can hear her crying through the thin walls when I stay up at night. 

     She's lashed out physically at the nurses before, but my knowledge of why is extremely limited. 

     "W-hy don't we j-ust st-a-art!" the little girl next to me cried out. Her name is Emmy, she goes to every group seminar and sits in the same seat every time she did. I feel like I'm intruding. 

     She didn't mind her posture in the slightest, and she had scraggly long brown hair that hung down to her knees when she bowed her head. 

     She rocked back and forth gently in her chair, and increased the volume to her breathing. 

      She is a Schizophrenic, and thought being here could "cure her". How disappointed she was when she found out the grim truth. 

     She put her head in her hands, and continued kicking her feet off the floor to throw her body into the back of the chair. 

      "Emmy, we want to see if our friend Sarah will join us first. Then we'll start, promise," a nurse told her, not walking over to calm her. I noticed how she didn't say "I" before "promise". That simple letter would make her accountable, and she didn't want that. 

     Emmy is faking. In her vocal tics that is, her Schizophrenia is very real. At first I couldn't figure out why someone would pretend to be worse off, they'll only make more time for themselves here. 

     Oh. It's similar how homeless people eat a bag of chips in the gas station to be housed in jail for petty theft. My heart sank as I heard her thinking freely now about the Psych ward being home. 

     At the sight of the nurse that went to Sarah's room to request her attendance come back alone, the blonde (who is deathly afraid of me now) silently nodded and smiled at us as she stood up in the circle. 

     I have no idea what to expect. Everyone isn't thinking, they're just waiting. 

     "Alright! So, let's start with talking about how we feel today." my eyes widened as a small smile broke across my face. I hung my head and looked at my lap so nobody else would see my seemingly ill timed expression of joy, but I shouldn't be surprised. Of course that's what the group seminars focus on.

     I focused into the circle to listen as the first person began to share. His name is Mike, and he has short brown hair that's going grey. He actually felt obligated to introduce himself to me, even though it would just be a repetition of what I know. Still, I nodded along respectfully as he told me that he's fifty years old and is in a constant battle with depression. But, he's doing well today. And I knew he isn't lying. 

      Laura, on the other hand, did lie flatly about her statement that she's doing fine. She's sarcastic about it too, and never thinks about herself, including why she got here. I would say it's strange that she never thought about something as simple as her age, but I would only be able to judge if she has or hasn't by a week since that's when I got the cursed ability. And, once my mind fits my physical state, I could understand going a week without minding the simple facts like that. 

     Laura is a pretty girl, in her twenties most likely. She has long wavy blonde hair, which looked treated from her chestnut roots. The nurses don't allow hair dye.

     I couldn't pay much attention to peoples appearances other than their hair, and if I did-in the best case scenario, I'll be sent to the quiet room. Hair is an easy way for me to identify people quickly, because there's such a variance amoung the patients.

     Next, sitting right next to Laura, Lauren piped up. She's a ginger with shoulder length hair and bangs that covered her forehead. Out of what the bangs didn't shadow, and what people's heads didn't block my line of sight, I could see tons of freckles on her face, especially the bridge of her nose. She was doing exceptionally well today, and we all gently expressed our happiness about it towards her. She's been in a fight with bulimia for six years of what she remembers enough for it to actually classify as bulimia, and she's in the homestretch of winning it completely. That she did tell the group out loud, and we all nodded and smiled. Clapping, or cheering loudly, makes some people more on edge.

     We're getting closer to me. I took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the fact and pay attention to who started talking next. 

     It's a Asian woman named Anise, maybe in her early forties? She has black hair that is braided and hanging down behind the back of her chair. I would draw attention to myself if I craned my neck to try to guess the length, so I didn't bother.

     My endeavor beside, she's doing fairly alright. She's in the process of trying to conquer anorexia, and looks the part. Of course I kept these observations to myself, they're only to sort out my thinking and I would never want to risk offence if I vocalized them to anyone. 

     Next is a beaming man named Travis, who looks fairly aged as well. He has obviously been in the exercise room right before this (it's just a treadmill and an elliptical, but it's nice), I could see the sweat glistening off his dark brown skin. He explained how his wife has been supporting him, and started gushing about the positive phone calls they've had. He's thinking about what brought him here, awful insomnia, but he didn't say anything about it in the moment. 

     The nurses actually don't intervene too much. They stayed, and congratulated or encouraged when necessary, but they let us carry on most of the talking. Even though, I can't rightly say "us". I haven't said a word yet. 

     Next, all the eyes were on me. Again, "all the eyes" are only the seven people in the circle, most of my nerves stemmed from the nurses expecting stares. 

     "Um, for those of you that don't know me, I'm Louis. I've uh- I'm doing pretty okay right now, actually. I get to see my friend soon, so that's good." I'm being congratulated, but I have to take a moment and play back what I said to figure out what made me feel so embarrassed. The moment was over too quickly and my words kept pouring out. I couldn't stop talking, I guess I truly underestimated how much I needed this. 

     I took another deep breath as I calmed myself down to listen to Emmy talk. 

     She stuttered that she is maintaining, and that got the same amount of quiet but steady praise as I had gotten for talking about Aaron and Travis had gotten about talking about his wife. Lauren got the same volume of praise, but she had gotten it for much longer. And that is well deserved on her part.

     I like how supportive this is. It sounds like a minor thing, getting to see a friend. But it means the world to me, and I feel like everyone here has a sense of understanding of that. They also congratulate everyone that gave them the slightest bit of subject material equally. I really like this. And there's nothing wrong with the fact that I'm enjoying this, I never thought there would be such a strong web of support for me such as this.

      Next, a girl that preferred the nickname Hel went (as opposed to Helen, her birth name). Based on her posture, and attitude and all that, I put together that her desired name is not a coincidence. She has curly hair that is dyed a cotton candy pink, with her black roots significantly showing. Since you can't dye hair here, it became obvious to me that she's either been here awhile, or came with it a little messy.

     But to be fair, I also can't know much about her, because her thoughts are dormant. And I never like judging people by their appearances, or even attitudes. If people did that to me, it would lead to some very bitter deductions. So I would never be a hypocrite and do that to someone else. 

     "I'm not doing very well," she started. Like me and the others, she felt compelled to explain herself without the nurses involvement. 

     "Look- I want to say that everything is fine. I really do. But it's hard sometimes, it's so hard. I feel-" she scrunched up her face in thought and stuck her tongue out to the side of her mouth. 

     "I feel like I'm drowning. I'm so glad most of you are happy, but I was talking to my sister yesterday. She said that if I don't start acting normally- never mind. I don't want to share that," she finished with her eyes glued to the floor in the middle of the circle. 

     "Helen, if you want to talk to a counselor, tell any of us and we can bring her in." The nurses offered, and Hel nodded, still staring intently at the empty space of ground. 

     "I just feel like I left it on a bad note." she nervously chuckled. 

     "Mike Laura, Anise and Emmy, I'm glad you're doing well. And Travis, I'm so happy about your wife being supportive. Lauren! I'm so very proud of you. And Louis, I really hope you have an awesome time when you see your friend." everyone smiled and blushed slightly at the acknowledgement, except Laura. She just nodded quietly and stared at her lap as she twiddled her thumbs to avoid any looks that might challenge her earlier statement. 

     "Do you guys want to move on, or talk about your days more?" A different nurse asked. See, they're interchangeable to me, the session is run the same way even though there are constant switches in the leadership. 

     "Uh, I think we're clear to move on?" Mike looked around the group for confirmation. Travis was the first to confidently agree, next came Lauren, and Emmy quietly mumbled agreement as well. Next was Laura, she didn't want to talk about her day any longer than she had to. Anise silently nodded, straightening her posture as she daintily prepared for the next talking point. 

     I looked at Hel for a second, and we locked eye contact. Just long enough to blink before she bowed her head again. 

     "Let's move on." She spoke quietly to the floor below her.


	19. Included

"Alright. The next thing we want to do, if everyone could close their eyes?" the people around me sighed, then rolled their shoulders back as their eyes shut. My heart dropped, this was going well. 

      Louis? She thought as she looked up at me. 

     "I can't close my eyes." the rest of my "friends" ignored my remark and kept their eyes shut, but the nurse looked obviously agitated. 

     It's strange how only mental hospital patients realize when a conversation is none of their business to pry into.

     The nurse sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. 

     "Alright, then if you could just lower your gaze and try to focus," she reasoned, I complied to avoid any further discrepancies. 

     Since everyone has their eyes shut, I'm almost completely in my thoughts as opposed to senses. Which would've been completely fine, I can handle just one. My thoughts are severely out of proportion of what I am able to feel, I can only truly deal with one. 

     So I would've been completely fine, if the nurses stopped looking at me. They're studying my scars, and it hurts me because it leaves me to deal with both aspects of the world at once. In addition, it's embarrassing and making me angry. I know no one else is looking at me, but I still feel humiliated.

     I know my present company is just about as mentally screwed as I am, but they didn't make assumptions besides that "I've been through a lot". On the other hand, the nurses welcomed themselves to. They're unaware, however, that I know every word they're thinking. 

    "Alright, focus on your breath," the nurse gently started as I traced her feet as they strode domineeringly around the inner circle.

     The request made me obey for about a second, but I sighed as I refocused on the thoughts. Not senses, not how I'm feeling. That doesn't matter, they're not as important. 

     I shuddered- that's what Damian would say. I started to wonder- would he still be able to find me if I left France? So long as no pictures of me ever end up anywhere public, he can't possibly have a guard all over the globe. I didn't want to bet that, but if push comes to shove I'll take my chances. 

     But how could I leave? I don't have any documents required to travel, or at least in my possession I don't. Also, money. Have none of that, and have no legal method of getting some. 

   Aaron. The thought rudely interrupted my plans to flee. I can't leave him, he's the only one I care about. Well, the only person I remember to care about. 

     "Louis?" the nurse asked. The entire group is looking me over, but there's a gentleness in their eyes that conveys empathy. With the exceptions of the nurses. Some have an attempted glimmer of sympathy, but most look annoyed about my constant disobedience. Of course I didn't mean it as insubordination, I would make more trouble for everyone if I listened and shut my eyes. 

     I didn't say anything, but I did make myself look up at her to avoid any further implicit rage. 

     "Now, would anyone like to share how that made them feel?" the nurse offered, and backed up our of the circle again so we could talk. 

     "Nauseous," Lauren admitted. 

     "Yeah, closing my eyes made me feel a little dizzy," Mike agreed. 

      "I'm just glad we're doing it sitting down now, remember when we tried to stand up and do it?" Laura pointed out. Everyone smiled fondly at the memory, even though it wasn't an outstanding positive experience. 

     No one needed to remind each other of the outcome, which I gathered was that everyone's balance was negatively effected. 

     "Are you okay Anise?" the nurse questioned. At that recognition, the budding tears on her face flowed freely down her cheeks. 

     "Worse off now," she mumbled as she quickly rushed out of the room. She thought nothing about it, and that's okay. I can realize when my curiosity gets in other peoples business.

     A nurse went to the station that held the medication for people that need it. She went behind the table with shelving units that held the lock boxes, and began to open one. Some safes are filled with our sharps, and the others are for meds. They have to keep them locked in the event we would try to overdose.

     The nurse waited there for a minute, then went into Anise's room. The remaining nurses in the circle tried to continue the session while she was accessing the medicine, but nobody would pay them any attention. We were all mesmerized.

     "Anyone else want to share? Travis?" the nurse asked. He looked shocked to be put on the spot, but shrugged casually. 

     "Helen? Emmy?" she insisted, they both quickly shook their heads in response. 

     "What about you, Louis?" I lifted my head to glare at her. Her intentions aren't especially devious, but she knows I couldn't participate and still be in good health. She looked at me as a last resort, like I have to say something because no one else did. 

     "It was fine," I spat, not liking the sudden dig followed by even more attention. 

     "It takes a bit of getting used to, especially if it's your first time doing it like this." I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about the way she treats me makes me furious. If I couldn't participate in an activity, don't ask me to critique it. Simple.

     She waited for me to respond, but I didn't bother. 

     "Who's-s leav-vin-g-g next-t?" Emmy's voice filled the emptiness of the room, and the air seemed to thicken and become harder to breathe. 

     The nurses couldn't think on their feet at the question, and therefore couldn't think of a way to sidestep the arbitrary statement quickly enough. 

     "Lauren's doing very well," one stepped up and answered flatly. 

      I understand how tough their job is. You have to make sure a bunch of people that have mental illnesses which are too severe for them to function in society don't try to kill themselves, and have to make sure they're improving their health as you already have administrative tasks to take care of. It's juggling, really. And while I do understand how hard they have it, I don't feel comfortable opening up to them as much as the seven people in this circle (Well, and Anise). It's because they're all rather apathetic, more often than not they care more about their paychecks than us.

     There are two nurses for every patient, and three or even four if they prove to be "high risk". There are eight of us, so there are twenty nurses. A suicide attempt early on got Hel a third, I have three, and Sarah has four. 

     The thought of calling in a fourth nurse for me bounced around in their heads after the blonde was shown my ability (and immediately told my other two nurses), but they apparently decided against it. Not enough money in the system. Besides, every time they have to hire a nurse here, they have to provide documentation to prove why the patient poses a threat to themselves or others. And the fact that I've been doing well in this seminar so far doesn't warrant a fourth nurse.

       "When is s-sh-she leaving-g-g?" Emmy insisted. The nurses shifted around to look at each other, and squirmed slightly at feeling forced to disclose that information. 

     Lauren's eyes are as wide as saucers. She sat on the edge of her seat as she eagerly awaited the reveal of information she's been waiting on for three weeks now. She attempted to brush her ginger bangs out of her face, but they soon fell into their previous position to cover her forehead. 

     "Emmy, we have to move on." Lauren sat back, and a mild but heartbreaking sense of disappointment took over her posture and expression. 

     "Alright, we're going to keep our eyes open as we do the next activity. It's gonna be a little different, but we don't want you guys getting dizzy or nauseous." we all awaited instruction. 

     "Everyone, if you guys can stand up?" they asked, and nurses behind her kept their arms bent but moved their hands up to the ceiling with their palms facing the tiles repeatedly to support what the other nurse led with. 

"Don't lock your knees, Laura," the nurse tacked on that warning to the end of her sentence.

   We're all standing in front of out chairs, and are looking at each other. And when we decided that there's nothing to look at anymore, we looked at the floor in the middle of the circle. It's like common ground, where we could all bury our gaze and escape the world around us. 

       "I want you to focus on how your toes feel. Focus on how your feet connect with the ground," she kept talking, but I did all that I could to drown it out. I tried to repress my senses all that I could, so I could focus on tolerating the thoughts. 

     Seventy five trillion. I shuddered as I felt a new tidal wave wash over me, grasping me and pulling me down into the cold depths. I still couldn't fathom trying to deal with this my entire life, I couldn't. I'm positive I will meet an untimely end.

     I tried to regain my full consciousness before my thoughts ran away with me and it was too late. I looked back around the circle to see if anyone is staring at me, and they aren't. I still felt like it though, aside from the nurses someone's eyes were digging into my shoulders like daggers.

     "Alright, that's all we have time for." it began to annoy me how when they said something, it almost always began with the word "alright". 

     I was first to leave and go back into my room. I like my present company, but I'm being watched. I couldn't see them, or hear them. 

     I lied down on my bed and faced the open exit. I tucked my knees up to my chest, I thought this position would cause my muscles less grief than on the floor. 

     I sighed. I couldn't take a nap, messing up my sleep schedule is against the rules. I did have seven minutes left, maybe I could call Aaron?

     Eh, there are more reasons about why I couldn't do that than I would like to list. The main one being that I might not have any minutes left at all, I'm not entirely sure how landlines work. 

     Next, being that if I call the house and he's not there, I would have to answer to Robert. And on the off-chance he's still angry at me, I didn't want to risk that. 

     You hear the voices too, don't you? I began to feel fearful of who is so near while thinking about that. I gulped, then lifted my head. It really could've been anyone, even the blonde nurse that knows. 

     How I differentiate between my nurses is the following: one has blonde hair, one is blonde but also pregnant, and the other is brunette.

     Damn! Why am I letting myself get sidetracked, I truly can't focus on one thing at all. This is important, I couldn't let myself get away.

      Sarah held her hands behind her back, and she isn't leaning and putting her weight against the threshold like I expected her to. She has long coily black hair, and even though she's eighteen, she's only two or three feet taller than me. 

     I nodded to her, I didn't know what else to do. To say she took me by surprise is a giant understatement, I'm dumbfounded by her sudden appearance.

     How? I widened my eyes slightly and shook my head to signal her that I'm not going to relay this information again. 

     "T-talk to me." I stuttered out, not wanting to feel like I'm demonstrating this like it's something positive. 

     She stayed in the threshold of my room, not swaying a bit. 

     "You don't sleep." her voice is sweet, but it also has an edge to it that's tough as nails.

     I shook my head, I'm too shocked about finally seeing this reclusive girl to really think about what I'm going to say. 

     She's regarded as extremely dangerous to herself and others, but I just saw a person. I saw a little girl trapped in her own mind, wanting anything to escape. 

     Much like myself. I know that feeling way too well, but I also couldn't forget what I've been warned about her.

I have something very important to tell you... she thought, so the nurses couldn't hear.


	20. Sarah

"Time for bed," only one of Sarah's many nurses came to tell her. The nurse didn't look inside my room to see if I'm asleep because my light is off, my bed is in the corner, and I'm not her concern. 

"Let me finish this." Sarah's statement had commanding subject matter, but her volume was a quiet plead.

"One minute. And that means I want you at the group seminar tomorrow." at this point, I closed my eyes. I didn't need to watch it play out-I heard it twice, I don't need to see it too. 

"You always want me at the group seminar," Sarah pointed out, but then left with her nurse when she gently pushed her into her room. 

Shortly after, two of my three nurses came in. The other one is just if I act out, they are backup. 

It's the pregnant lady and the blonde I was talking to earlier. I'm sure they both know, I heard the blonde telling two people.

"We have the burn medication, if you feel like you need it before bed," they offered, and I immediately nodded. 

"Do you feel like it's healing?" they asked. I took a deep breath, and shook my head. My skin is blackened around the edges of the still open scars, and it's been making me short of breath along with being in tremendous pain.

Which poses the question, how the hell am I still alive? 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Of course I want him to get better!" I exclaimed as the argument between my superior and I escalated. 

"Then why is he in a Psych ward before a mental hospital?" she inquired. I sighed, and took a minute to lower my voice so she would lower hers in turn. 

"There's not many things I can do for him at his age. I've tried to get him admitted to the mental hospital, they won't accept him until he's at least twelve." I shivered. It's a full immersion third degree burn, and over the counter medication cannot ward off infection for much longer. I'm mainly concerned if Damian cut him beforehand, because if his skin wasn't intact-

I shuddered at the things my mind went to. The hospitals will not accept him, I've been told that by the doctors there.

"I had to pull enough strings to get him where he is now." 

"That's not the only mental hospital," she pointed out, ignoring my second remark. I ran my fingers though my hair. 

"I don't have the money for traveling." I desperately want him to get treatment, and it's my fault he couldn't get help.

"Do you realize the severity of the situation?" she questioned, I nodded. 

"Every day he spends at that ward is a thousand Euros that come from us. Either discharge him to a mental hospital within the week, or bring him to work." she hung up before I could respond.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

After they rubbed copious amounts of intensely strong prescription medication into my skin, they got treated gauze and loosely re-dressed my wounds. 

"Get some rest." they tapped my shoulder. I hid my face as I winced, but it isn't their fault. They didn't know my shoulders are burned too. 

I stared at the ceiling for as long as I could. I lied there, and hoped I could fight off sleep for another night.

Louis, I know you can hear me, Sarah's voice interrupted my solitude. 

Calm down. But I need you to pay attention, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins, my hands shook as I felt like I was going to burst into tears. She needs me for something, and I know already that I can't help her.

It's okay, don't worry. But you need to listen to me, she insisted. I groaned, and curled up in the fetal position. I can't have her depending on me for anything, I can't form any more relationships with anyone. Even though I've tried to isolate myself, she'll still find me.

I wanted to tell you this face to face- she obviously is hesitant, but still forced herself to say it.

I'm a mind reader too. I dug my nails into the skin of my forehead, and tried to claw the thought out of my brain. I shouted in misery, which attracted the nurses to come to my bedside. Three women are surrounding me, and the emergency one had a straight jacket ready.

"Louis, let's get you into the quiet room, okay? I want you to be able to relax." I slipped my arms into the restraints, the nurses looked relieved they didn't have to struggle. I let them lead me into the quiet room, and I started sobbing as soon as they shut the metal door. They switched on the lights, and I sighed as I prepared to spend another night in here.

You don't understand! He won't rest until I talk to him. Please! The quiet room is soundproof, but I knew that Sarah jumped out of bed and is arguing with the nurses outside of the door.

The longer this goes on, the more patients you'll unsettle. Please, let me talk to him! she begged. I checked what she was saying and what she thought but didn't say by what the nurses thought. They can only plan their response by what Sarah vocalizes, so that's how I know what's going on even though I can't hear. 

No, Sarah get to bed. The nurses told her. She sighed, then went back to her room. 

I'm sorry about this. I'll find a time to talk to you  Sarah offered.

No! Don't act nice around me, I know how evil you are. You took pleasure in manipulating the nurses, and you showed no sign of remorse for it. I'm not getting near you, I have enough to deal with already. I thought, as a way to tell her off. Also, if she's lying, I'll know if she doesn't respond.

I was going to help you, I was going to explain everything to you and help you destroy Damian. You've lost a powerful ally, Louis. I sighed, and tried to convince myself that I don't need her help.

You're being transferred to a mental hospital, Damian has forged all the signatures he needs to get you wherever he wants. Good luck with him, you'll need it. I expected that Damian is the one who claimed to be my guardian to get me out of the hospital, but the information did me no use. I have no way to prove he's not my guardian, so I'm basically falling into his trap with no conceivable way out.

Without the use of my extremities, I could focus on my mind much more than my body. I still have no escape plan, and probably can't devise one without Sarah. But I saw her intrusive thoughts, she's well aware of their presence and doesn't work to fight them off. That's what's dangerous about her, not what the nurses claim. I can still hear her thoughts and she's apologizing profusely, but I can't fall for it. She'll use her age or something to take advantage of me, I will never pay her any mind. I can't bear to.

Three hours later, no matter how hard I tried to fight it, a deep sleep took a hold of me. The utter exhaustion from four days of staying awake is catching up with me, and pulling me into the inevitable hell that is my mind once again. I feel like I'm falling, and soon there's nothing I could do but give up.

I'm aware that I always do that. In my defense it's useless to try to fight, I'm no match for the thoughts that regularly eviscerate my mind. I'm too weak, much too fragile. I have too many ailments inflicted on me to possibly be healthy, or to look average enough to avoid people's unending attention.

     The ebony woven net that surrounds me grew slightly as I have, so I could stand and take a few steps. I'm obviously not truly here, it's a completely real dream. A lucid dream, perhaps. 

     I wrapped my arms around my chest as whatever warmth I possessed was sucked out of me. My skin got paler as the colour drained out of it, which made the burns more visible. They stung, and it took all that I have not to shout out in despair. I know the nightmares would silence my voice, and leave my throat dry and aching for water.

     Possibly the scariest thing about this, is that I have no control of what my actual body is doing. I'm not even aware the difference between a peaceful sleep, or screaming in an absolute fit. Granted, I wouldn't be able to move my arms independently, so I would most likely be convulsing on the floor instead of breaking my own fingers.

     My worries were swiftly addressed when I woke up. The first thing I felt was the scratchy cloth of the walls. Whatever I did, it was severe enough to stay in the quiet room for the entire night. I shouldn't be surprised, I expected as much. 

  Still I sighed, and threw my head back against the padded wall. 

     If that isn't bad enough, my heart started beating faster from what I just heard. Aaron is thinking about visiting me. I don't want him to worry about my physical or mental state, because they are both are in shambles. The burns on me have become even less attractive then since he last saw me, not like lethal chemical burns are pretty to begin with. Still, I don't want him to see me like this. 

      And Robert is thinking about how he promised Aaron "tomorrow" which was yesterday, so technically he owes Aaron the day.

     "Louis?" the blonde nurse I almost took a liking to opened the door to ask. I guess I just faked a friendly conversation until I was truly convincing enough, and even fooled myself in the process. 

    "Where else would I be?" I replied sarcastically. Her question sounded like she was looking for me, I'm not hard to find. She immediately thought of something spiteful in response, but didn't say it. 

     Out. We unlocked the door two hours ago, and took off the restraint. I looked down at my arms, and separated them from my chest. I've gotten so used to them being bonded, that I didn't know I'm pressing them to my chest and convincing myself I'm still tied up.

     "Look, I'm sorry about my reaction to your story yesterday. It's just a lot for me to take in, and I did not do it very well." she chuckled at the end, but then looked up for me to accept her awful attempt at an apology. 

Even I know that when you know you hurt someone, you ask what you can do to make them feel better. She just wanted to laugh it off, she didn't understand that I would never be able to trust her.

     "Is he feeling better?" I asked quietly about her son. She was dumbfounded in her thoughts at first.

     "Uh, yeah, he is." she gained a sympathetic tone to her voice as she ventured out to pat my knee. Which isn't too odd, I'm sitting criss-cross-applesauce because it doesn't hurt my legs as much as holding my knees up to my chest did. 

     "Are we okay now?" she asked, and I nodded while I stared at the floor. 

     "You can come out if you want, the group seminar is starting soon," she offered. 

     But of course, do what you want to do She thought. At first I was touched, but then I started to wonder why she didn't say that out loud. There was a perfect opportunity, why didn't she take it?

     I'm conflicted. I like when we got to talk in the group seminar, but I didn't like when the nurses intervene. 

     Before I knew it, I heard the nurses rally everyone together and start asking questions. But I wasn't sitting down and listening.

I'm sitting up in my bed, wondering why Hel is in my room.


	21. Talk

I didn't waste time worrying about the fact that she's in my room, that didn't bother me. It's not a private space, even though I'm sure she didn't ask her nurse if she could visit me. She doesn't need to, but they do checkups every thirty minutes to see how you're doing. And if Hel isn't where she's expected to be, they'll be worried and once they find her they'll be frustrated that they put her through the extra work. 

      All I want to know, is why she wants to talk to me. She isn't thinking about what she's planning, so she completely blindsided me. I don't like surprises.

  "Please leave, I'm going to hurt you" I rushed out, with an urgent tone in my voice. As much as I don't want to, I have to accept that one day I'm going to lose it. And I don't want anyone around when I do, I'm perfectly fine being alone.  

  I'm going to lose that will I'm forcing myself to stop these evil thoughts with. Even in this moment, there's not much else I can do. I didn't have any further energy to protest, so if Hel argues I can't fight her off.

"You were crying earlier," she said matter-of-factly, but her tone also calmed me down. I felt compelled to wait until she explained herself for saying something so unrelated to the moment.

"You were screaming earlier," I retaliated to her irrelevant explanation. She didn't have a strong reaction to that other than a shrug and a small nod. Neither of us have a snarky tone, we're just stating facts.

"You look scared of me," I remarked, and she shook her head. 

"I'm not," she assured. If she has any sense, she would be terrified of me, but she stayed put. How is she so courageous? I'm a villain's beast, why did she risk staying near me?

 "Then why are you standing so far away? I won't hit you," I assured. With that, she sat where I patted in the empty spot next to me. I offered her to come closer as a test, if she has one eye and half a brain she would've ran away. I guess it was a little malicious, but I need to see just how far I could push her. Prompting her to run away screaming in fear didn't cause her any distress, she gladly sat right next to me.

"I just didn't want to intrude." she took a deep breath.

If you're so polite then, why are you still here? I thought, but stayed silent. I need to test her undetectably, I can't let myself be so rude. 

"Your arms are very badly burned," she remarked. In response, I hid them. I don't want to talk about it, and I certainly didn't want her staring at them for much longer. At the joints, it's starting to ache to move my arms at all. Hopefully that'll go away soon.

     At least they're down to normal size now, I felt bloated for two or three days in the hospital. I am thankful for that, but still I feel bitter and angry whenever I dare to think about the condition of my arms.

"Nothing I can do about it," I said, and added a tone to my voice that told her I didn't want to get into this.

"Whoever cut into your face doesn't want you talking, what do you have to say?" she didn't come here to be nosy, there's something else the matter.

"What do you mean?" I asked, instead of insisting that she tell me her reasoning for coming. I had to earn her trust before she tells me her issues. And that's not evil of me, because she came to me and expects to earn my trust, she has no idea how quickly I'll forget all about her. It's not my fault she has so much faith in me.

     Even though I got the opportunity, refusing to tell her that I can't remember anything to save my life might be considered devious. Oh well, it's not my fault. 

"Wanna tell me what happened?" she questioned. She didn't mean to coerce me into anything, her tone made it sound like an honest question.

"No." I refuse to retell this moment. I know I can't describe it accurately, I'll make my struggles seem trivial. Besides, I can't even remember the correct sequence of events.

That's where my nightmare realm and the real world differ. There, like ice in my chest, the feeling from the experience was injected into me. I didn't need to recollect exactly what happened, because such sheer terror and agony is unique to one moment in my life.

"Never mind, I understand when something is touchy. Are you alright? I'm sorry I caused that," she rubbed the back of her neck and offered up a sincere apology. 

"What did I do?" I asked her, which only made her confused. I want to accept her apology because I know it's honest, but I couldn't until I found out what atrocity I committed this time.

"You said 'sorry I caused that'," I tried to jog her memory. She nodded slowly, she didn't see the problem.

"Uh, yeah. If there's anything I can do to help-" she offered again, but I didn't have time to waste.

"No, not the first part! What did you cause, what did I do?" I insisted, I must sound crazy to her. But she still sat next to me, she didn't run out in a screaming fit yet.

It didn't seem like I lost my focus for a great amount of time, but I knew I could do something awful in a heartbeat. I know my capabilities. That's why I persisted to ask Hel what went wrong.

She could still focus on the original question of "are you alright?" more than I could, I would've completely forgotten about it if she wasn't thinking about it still. I'm wired to analyze every single thing, and evaluate causes and correlations and irregularities and such. Hel just focuses on the question, nothing more.

She's still trying to think of a reason for why she came, but her thoughts didn't say anything about an answer. I know why, she didn't know why she came. Humans have extreme, compelling emotions at times. And logic doesn't offer any explanation.

I wanted to change the phrasing on that right after I thought about it. Because I implied that if you don't have those moments, you're not human. And, I don't experience that wave of emotion anymore.

 I want her to understand the fight I'm involved in, and the odds I'm up against. I didn't know what to say to her about it, though. How do I begin a conversation like that? I can't- there's no way I can try that won't make me sound crazy to her.

I don't want my impossible conflict to serve as an excuse about how I'm acting. It's unacceptable, and I know I'm still accountable.

"Please leave," I asked, trying to be more honest in my tone so she'll listen. I can't be trusted, I shouldn't be confided in. 

"I uh- you looked up at me in group, and I wanted to ask why?" Hel questioned. That's what this is about? She isn't much older than me, but I know she isn't stupid. She's making up a reason of why she came because she obviously doesn't have one. I don't understand why she would come to talk, but I let it happen. Maybe she could be a friend of mine?

     No, I'll only decieve her and let her down. Guilt and distrust isn't a way to build a friendship.

Anyway, her recent question is pointless, so I didn't answer it.

"Are things better with your sister?" I asked as reciprocation of her "Are you okay?" question. She asked it ages ago, but I've just now formulated an answer.

"No, I asked her to come today and she refused. Once I'm better, right in the head I mean, she'll come back. It just takes too much effort to take care of me right now." she seemed to talk more as she warmed up to me. Or, she just felt a need to explain her situation.

"Can I give you a hug?" I lowered my voice to ask, she shook her head. I know people hug each other to help them, probably to help them forget why they're upset. Or, contact is soothing to others, I'm not sure. But either way, I want to help.

"I know your chest is hurt as well." she sniffled. She's starting to break down. 

"I'm fine. Do you need a hug?" I asked again. In response, she looked me in the eyes and nodded.

     I think Hel is somewhere between ten and sixteen. Which is a big gap, so I didn't focus too much on figuring it out exactly. It doesn't matter, because maturity wise we're the same age. But I think she needs someone to comfort her much more than she cares who it is or how old they are.

I could feel my heart rate increasing. But I couldn't let myself tense up, or Hel would know and grow concerned.

"It's okay," I said quietly. She resumed sobbing as she rest her head on my shoulder. I let her stay on my shoulder even though it started to burn, I'm not insensitive to signs of emotional pain.

"It's uh- It's hard for families to understand the struggles we go through. You'll be okay, I know you will." I pat her on the back a few times, and she sighed in relief. 

I drew from personal experience, but in doing that I insinuated that Robert and Aaron are my family. I'm right in the respect that they don't understand what I'm going through, but I didn't know if I'm wrong to call us a family. Hell, I'm being shipped off to a mental hospital soon, so it's not like we'll have time to bond as a family before I die.

I assume that's Damian's plan. Get me where I can't escape, then kidnap me and kill me. I'm as useless to him as Sarah is, he's not understanding that I'm incompetent to his demands until I'm older. So I expect that he'll murder me and start over with someone else, just as he did when Sarah failed him.

"Louis, snap out of it!" Hel grabbed me by the shoulders until I looked her in the eyes and focused. She's still here. 

"That's what I caused earlier. I didn't know how to describe it to you when you asked," she explained. I looked at her with wide eyes, and she continued catching me up on what damage I did.

"I tried to prevent your head from hitting the wall, you threw yourself backwards and almost started screaming. Not loud enough for the nurses to stop the group seminar, though," I looked down at her hands, the joints in her fingers were already starting to swell.

"God, I'm so sorry," I gasped as I looked down at the bruises. I didn't sound sincere, but I really tried to be.

"I would rather this happen than you give yourself a TBI," she chuckled once to try to lighten the mood. 

"I hurt you," I stated stupidly as I stared at the damage. I've manipulated people before, but I've never physically hurt them. I've never let myself get to that point before. 

"This is what I was talking about! Leave, now!" I demanded. I'm scared, I don't want to let myself get this low. I don't want this to be a gateway to more serious injuries.

     This time she did obey me, but she didn't stumble out and run like the blonde nurse did when I told her. She walked out calmly, and even though I didn't expect that, I'm glad she's not scared of me. I can't afford to make another enemy.


	22. Visit

"Laura!" the nurses scolded her as she cowered in the corner.

"No, please! I don't want to take the medicine anymore!" she begged, and they sighed around her. They weren't equipped to argue with her because she didn't have upwards of three nurses, so they fell silent and offered two hands to help her up.

It makes me see things that aren't there I heard her plead, but she didn't tell them that. She said she was alright at the group seminar, and it would be hell to pay if the nurses found out that she lied. 

I stepped in my door frame just to peer into the hallway. I could hear everything they thought as it is, and since the walls are thin between my room and the hallway I could hear everything said as well. I tried to ignore it, but they were shouting. I don't know why I put myself through the agony of getting up, maybe just to prove to myself I still can move? Most of the time I lie on my bed and wait until the nurses help me to move, so maybe I just want to be confident that I'm still mobile. 

Once I hobbled in the doorframe and looked at the situation, I saw Laura's eyes filled with tears. It took me a moment to piece together that meant she was sad. Very sad! What could I do about it?

I watched the nurses help her into the quiet room, and promise to do an updated psych evaluation to give her better medication. 

At this point, I retreated to my bed. There was nothing left to see, my curiosity and major endeavor beside.

I didn't want to climb in my bed after moving so soon, so I sat right in front of it.

"Louis?" the nurse came in my room, probably for my thirty minute checkup to make sure I'm not trying to kill myself.

"Help?" I weakly asked and slowly raised my arms below the elbows. She shook her head, and I pouted. Why can't I rest?

"Aaron is here to see you!" she smiled and completely ignored my look of terror.

"What's he doing here?" I know Robert promised him, but I didn't think he would honor it. 

"It's family day!" she grinned, and started walking behind me so I would leave. That way, I couldn't claim she pushed me out, but she still did something to that effect.

"Hi!" Aaron chirped as I slowly and reluctantly entered the commons. The nurse guided me through the hallway and right to him.

      I looked around and saw that Lauren has her sister here, they're talking and laughing together. Travis has his wife, they're mostly silent and just hugged. Mike is holding hands with his wife who's holding their son, and looked rather grim while answering his sons question about why he's here. Anise has her daughter, who is much too little to talk. Laura has what looks like her friend with her, but of course I'm judging who is related to who based only on their attitude and looks that resembled their company. And wedding bands, if each person in the couple has them I assume that they're married to each other. 

Hel and Emmy are sitting on the couch, talking to each other. As I paid more attention to them, I noticed how they're not having a normal conversation. Hel is comforting Emmy. Even though she felt just as broken, she put that aside to make sure Emmy didn't feel the same. Emmy held her head and groaned while Hel quietly murmured encouragement and rubbed her arched back.

    I didn't pay attention to my surroundings any more than I had to. I looked around just enough to know where everyone is, then I stared at the floor and tried to bear the mental pressure that all the strangers worsened.

"Where's Robert?" I asked Aaron after I recovered just enough to force myself to speak. He shrugged in response, and looked more clueless than usual.

"He said, he said he'll wait downstairs but I don't k-know if he actually is," he stammered as anxiety caught up with him. He wrung his hands in each other and took a shaky breath, I immediately thought it's because of me. He's scared. But his thoughts are different. I know he's telling the truth, especially the "I don't know if he actually is" part. Robert has nearly broken a promise to him before, and who's to say that's the first or the last time he's tried to get out of something?

I looked at his face, his cheeks are a bright shade of pink. He doesn't want to leave, even though he could. It bewildered me, what emotion other than fright could stuttering and frayed nerves convey other than absolute terror?

"Um, okay. So, how long do you think you want to stay?" I've honestly forgotten if I told him about my ability, so that isn't a factor I want to have in the conversation right now.

"Daddy said two hours." he's beaming, and doesn't understand how uneasy I am. I didn't want the impression I make on him to be this one, because whether I like it or not this is still my first impression.

"You don't have to talk or hug me if it hurts your skin," he said, and I sighed. I want to hug him, and his thoughts assured me that it's mutual, but for some reason I didn't. I couldn't make my arms move.

I had flashbacks to being a straight jacket again, with hallucinations of Damian kidnapping me to follow.

"Louis?" Aaron tapped my shoulder, and I jumped.

"Sorry, you just look really troubled. I want to make sure you're okay?" Aaron swallowed as an attempt to calm his nerves. He got surprisingly articulate once again, I began to consider that it might be my company? Not as bragging rights to myself at all, I just know people are a huge influence on how you act. And if he's coddled in one setting (like his school, perhaps), he's going to act like they treat him. 

And, as much as I despise it, I'm shockingly profound for my age. But, it could also be just because he's concerned, and nothing but that emotion could outshine that enough to be more prominent. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. It's getting surprisingly easy to fib, to twist the truth is all too simple for me now.

"Daddy wants to talk to you about more therapy," he stated, desperately searching for a conversation topic. And there it is! So, Sarah is right after all. I'm still not going to reconnect or even reconcile with her though.

"What- uh, what about it?" I questioned. I only answer what he asks, I didn't volunteer any information to further the conversation.

"He wants to get you into the rehabilitation center. He was telling me, he's really angry he couldn't. I'm honestly kind of worried, because besides talking to you on the phone I can't visit you. And if you end up going, I'll-" he stopped, and ran his fingers through his hair only to rest his head in his hands.

"I'll miss you," he finished. I didn't respond, I didn't know how. I knew he longed to have my presence, I didn't know what about me infatuates him. He felt so strongly, but I feel nothing. Just an emptiness in the pit of my stomach, and a slight tugging on my heartstrings. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"I'll uh- I'll miss you too." I stumbled over my faked emotion. I do feel things when I'm around Aaron, but they're mostly dormant even when he says something that's considered tear-jerking. They wouldn't appear spontaneously based on what he says.

"Well, we have right now. So let's spend that time before you go away," he reasoned. In his mind it's definite, but for it to happen Robert has to do something for me. and I don't think he'll do that.

"You brought a book to read," I stated as I noticed it. I decided to leave the mental hospital conversation to Robert and I, worrying about me is not something Aaron should be concerned about.

"Yeah! Daddy says I need practice, so I thought I could read to you?" he looked up at me with puppy-dog eyes. 

"Uh-yeah, yeah of course you can." I nodded as I gestured for him to sit down to be more comfortable. 

Aaron's voice is sweet and it put me at ease, but he stumbled over the words frequently. Constantly, indistinguishable letters to Aaron like M and W, or D and B would disrupt the flow of his reading. 

After a few sentences, he growled in frustration and slammed the book shut. 

"I'm too stupid," he muttered as he turned to leave. 

"Aaron-" I got up to put my hand on his shoulder, and tried to help calm him down. 

"It's a dumb idea." he shrugged me off and kept walking out of the living area. 

He sounded so excited to read to me, and I felt a sense of guilt that the childish, unrestrained joy was extinguished. 

"You're not stupid!" I exclaimed. I didn't want him to leave the living area, because that means he could easily walk out. I stayed just on the edge of the carpet, in hopes he would come back in. 

My sudden outburst caused Emmy to cover her ears and cry out, and everyone else brought their conversations to a slow but steady close and stare at me. 

"Louis, do you need to spend time in the quiet room?" a nurse touched my injured back and asked me. I would've been more embarrassed at that, but I'm not facing the living area. My back is to the group, but I could feel their eyes bore into me as they began to wonder what made me shout. 

I nodded, I couldn't be around Aaron any longer. We have nothing in common, and I'm not good company. I mean, when you think about it, I'm not exaggerating about either remarks. He's sweet, gracious, and most of the time he's calm. And I'm the polar opposite. 

I walked voluntarily into the Quiet Room, and was left with my thoughts of Aaron as opposed to his physical presence. I've successfully distanced myself from another person, and I didn't mean to.

You know, there's a saying I've heard that states "opposites attract". That's true in the world of science, but with people that rule shouldn't apply. I know when they say that they mean simple things and hobbies, like one partner is a morning person and the other a night owl; or one likes crafts and the other likes metalworking. There are too many fatal flaws between Aaron and I, we are too different to get along. No amount of his grace and compassion will change that. 

I would like for that not to be the case, don't get me wrong I would. I want to be in Aaron's company, but I couldn't. I would freak him out, especially because in our current living arrangements we share a room. And when I wake up, I have no control of myself or what I do, and the last thing I want to do is hurt him like I did to Hel.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I stared at the floor, or as I've heard it said, "stared off into space". I always have thoughts plow through my head, but I didn't feel myself adding anything of sustenance to the ever-growing fire. 

I took a deep breath, I felt tranquility slowly spread through me. 

I twiddled my thumbs, because of my solitude I feel content in the midst of all my ailments.

I heard the click of the door open, it's the only indication I was given that someone is in here. I didn't worry about it too much, it's probably a nurse to let me out or a counselor or something. 

But I was proven wrong as the body I didn't deem necessary to identify grabbed my wrist. I shouted in both surprise and pain as they dug claw-like nails into the most fragile parts of my skin. 

I screamed, which is muffled at best when they put their giant hand over my eyes and mouth. I tried to at the minimum bite a finger of theirs, but they silenced me in such a familiar way because I couldn't move my jaw. 

As they dragged me out of the room, I shrieked for help. But to my dismay, the hallway is empty of all nurses. The living area is barren, the entire ward is deserted. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Louis!" my concerned third nurse is shaking me, trying to get me to open my eyes. I didn't even know I shut them. 

She was called in after my meltdown the first time I hallucinated, and functions as an extra body to help the other two when I have a breakdown.

I came out of my trance rather quickly, my kidnapper left when they heard someone else's voice. The science of that I don't know, there probably is no logical reasons. 

"You were dreaming again?" the first time I experienced this I was awake, so the nurses rightly believed whenever I'm going through this, that  I'm hallucinating. They call it "dreaming" though, to make sure their vocabulary didn't scare me.

"They kidnapped me again." I didn't know exactly who they is. I mean, I have theories that are pretty much fully proven, but I didn't see their face. And, it could be just a figment of my imagination after all, I'm not going to rule that out.

"Louis do you want me to call in a counselor?" she asked. I shook my head, but I did think it's amusing that she just pushes the job of talking me through it on someone else. 

"I'll get over it. Um, before I did have it, I was relaxed. Can I go out?" I hesitated in the action of saying what I was thinking for hours now. 

"Yes. You okay? You seem to be in a hurry," she asked. 

"I am." I turned back to remark. She was still getting off her place on the ground, I had already sprung up and was walking to the open door.


	23. Stressed

     By the time I got out of the quiet room, all the visitors left. I'm glad Aaron vacated the premises, although I wish it could be under better circumstances. I don't ever like hearing him when he's sad, it makes me upset. I want to give him the world, I just can't.

     I slowly approached Hel and Emmy. I kept my distance, Emmy seemed to understand. 

     "Hello," she greeted me. Her voice is shaking, she's crying. I blinked once in surprise, she must be sad. Unfortunately, I know everything except human emotions. I know what suffering of all forms looks like, but I don't have a wide range of knowledge about which emotion correlates with which action. It took me awhile to figure out.

     We all love you so much, can you remember that? Hel thought. I bet she said it too, but I'm not sure because I'm not close enough to hear them yet. 

     "I've gotta go make someone else feel better. I'll be back to talk with you in just a few minutes, I pinky swear." Hel kissed Emmy on the head, which is acceptable because Emmy is younger than her. Maybe eight or so? I don't know, her illness could be clouding her judgement of how old she is. 

     Emmy nodded, and let go of her. She stood up and stretched for a few seconds, then walked up to me. With a skip in her step too- it perplexed me.

       "Are you calm?" she questioned. I sighed, and shook my head. Why does everyone ask me that? 

     "I don't know what peace and tranquility are anymore," I shamefully admitted. 

      It's like- when you won't hurt yourself anymore, she thought. Most times, when people think things but can't get the phrasing just right, they never say it at all. Instead of trying to get their point across, they just give up entirely. I find it intresting, because sometimes people think about things really important- but then keep quiet.  
        
      "You must be, they released you from the quiet room," she pointed out. 

     "They keep you in there thirty minutes maximum, it's not punishment," I corrected her. I could be released and not be calm at all. 

   Obviously, Hel has never been in the quiet room for very long. Which made me wonder, why does she have three nurses? How could she prove herself to be dangerous to herself and or others, without ever lashing out? 

      While I talked to her, I kept my distance. I stayed a whole yard away from her, and whenever she tried to get closer to me, I backed away. 

      She took a step foward. 

      "Stop it," I warned her. 

      She took another step. 

       "I'm going to hurt you again!" I yelled, but not loudly enough to gain attention. Everyone shouts, you have to be really noisy to get any kind of special attention.

      "Let's get one thing straight, you didn't hurt my hand. I was trying to keep you from getting more injured, it was my choice to get involved and I'm getting really frustrated with you taking the blame for it," she didn't shout, but she did sway slightly to put her weight on her left leg and push her hip out subtly.

     "I caused it," I answered quietly.

     "Well, that's different than saying what you did and leading me to believe you have malicious intentions," Hel remarked. 

     "I'm right, I am a hazard and you should not ever come near me. This time, I came to apologize- and hope that it's healing okay." I looked to the floor and figeted with my fingers. 

     You can't do that much damage Hel thought, almost like she is challenging me. I can use the knowledge I have to level skyscrapers, and leave the entire earth barren and desolate. I can wreak havoc- but I don't. I control myself, to the best of my ability.

     I couldn't respond to her thought, she doesn't know I can read them. 

     "Louis, it's just a tiny little bruise. Do you want to see for yourself?" she questioned. 

     I considered the pros and cons. I worry that seeing someone else bruised or otherwise physically hurt could be a trigger to me to lash out, but I also need to survey the damage I've done to her fragile hand. 

     I nodded, and she unraveled the bandage. 

     I scrunched up my nose when I saw the purple skin. It looks like murky water, with a few deep purple spots to add to the disgusting green and blue ones. Her knuckles were worse, they made the hardest contact with the floor and they're littered with gashes from the splinters. I gagged, and turned my gaze to the floor.

     "That is bad," I stated. I guess she thought I had a high tolerance for injuries because I have to look at myself in the mirror every day. 

     "But I'm perfectly okay!" She smiled to try to cheer me up. 

     "I'm sorry I did that to you." I looked her in the eyes before walking back to the safety of my room. I didn't want to give her a chance to reply, I don't even want to listen to her thoughts about it. 

     I know how much bruises, cuts, and swelling hurt. And I feel indescribably guilty that I caused it. I don't care what she says, I hurt her. I want to do something about it, but I begin to fear for her safety when I get near her. I can't injure her more if I ever try to reconcile, I want to have a friend like her. 

     But if I get near her, she's going to get hurt.

     I flopped down on my bed, and sighed. Getting hurt like Hel did is definitely something Aaron would do, I never stopped thinking about him. But if I told myself I can't get near Hel, then I can't get near Aaron either. They both need to stay safe, they need to keep away from me.

"Hey bud!" I smiled as I saw Aaron come around the corner. As I got closer, I grew concerned because I realized that he's sulking. 

"What's up?" I made sure to make my tone more gentle as opposed to enthusiastic as soon as I became aware of his upset. 

He stayed silent, but jumped as he held his arms up for a hug. The book he was holding dropped to the floor as we embraced, neither one of us cared at the moment about it. 

"I love you. Please don't forget that," I said to him, and only slightly, he tightened his grip around the area his arms held on my back. 

"I love you too daddy," he spoke up to say.

He picked up the book, his face is still fallen. I know he's going to tell me what's wrong now, even though I already have an idea. He wanted so badly to go see Louis on his own, and I shouldn't have let him. 

He gets a specific look in his eyes when he's about to open up, and he hesitated a bit while he figured out how to say it.

"I can't read," he reasoned that would sum up the experience rather well, and it did. I knew almost exactly what happened from there. When he gets upset over this, he reacts one of two ways. The first one only happens in the house, because it's a screaming fit and him locking himself in his room as he cries. Since he is not near his room, I'm positive the events took a different turn. The alternative to him getting agitated at himself are sad mumbles as he suppresses his anger. 

I imagine how suddenly his frustration grew alarmed Louis, but he's been living in that state of alarm for a week and a half now. 

Of course that doesn't make it acceptable. I haven't told him yet, but I've been making calls and ensuing more arguments then I can count over his health. Mental and physical, now that I met him and know what he's like I want different things for him.

One, being get him to a mental hospital. It doesn't have to be this one as I'm not looking to break their age restrictions, but I need to find the money somewhere to help him feel at least a little better. Then, after he's ready, I want him to go to school to learn the basics. I don't believe I'm being too specific or demanding in my desires. 

When I mentioned this to my colleagues, they immediately disagreed. They claimed he's "too special" and bullshit like that. I do think Louis is extraordinarily special, but he deserves the right to an education just like everyone else. I feel like everyone is in a wild attempt to dehumanize him, so they can claim reason to acting absolutely horrifically to him.

Maybe I just felt so passionately about this because he lives with me. I can't explain exactly why, but I'm adamant about what I want for him. 

But to make everything I want happen, the problem is money. I don't make enough to help him in the way I want, and I can't ask for a raise after the tension in the work place I've caused. I've had my savings over the years tucked into Aaron's University funds, and of course I have to set aside the amount I owe my ex wife monthly. Then there's bills, and groceries, and maintenance for my car. Additionally, I try to set fifty dollars bi-monthly aside if he wants something special, excluding the bits and pieces I can scrape up for holiday and birthdays. I need to re-work my financial plans to include Louis now, under my roof he's entitled to all that Aaron is. 

I did need to rethink my plans for the future, but not now. Trying to make something out of nothing makes my head hurt. He couldn't stay at the ward, I didn't have the money for it.

"Do you want me to talk to your teacher about seeing if she can do some extra lessons?" I asked him. My head starts swimming when I think about everything I have to do, but I always make sure to turn my attention back to whoever needs me in that moment. I winced to myself as I offered that, just one more promise to keep with no money to make it happen.

"I-" he stopped. I didn't push him to speak, in fact when I do he stays silent longer to spite me. I just reached for his hand to hold as we walked across the street to where I parked. He stomped and whined in anger,but he kept moving forward.

"It's whatever you wanna do." I also took great care in making sure he knew that it's his life, so it's his choice. Of course, if it gets to such a point of chaos I will intervene, and at this stage I'm always supervising. But really, within reason he should be able to do what he wants to.

He didn't answer to that. At first I thought he's angry, the topic of reading makes him very upset. As I started the car I looked out the rear view mirror, and I saw him staring out the window with the smallest detectable smile on his face as he looked over all the trees.

"Can I call him?" he asked. I pulled over while I set my phone up to do just that. It took a little time to do, and with Aaron in the car I did not want to risk anything by trying something so stupid as to talk on my phone during a red light or even while driving. He means too much to me to try anything.

"You know he might be busy, yeah? He might be eating, or in group," I told him, basically as a disclaimer.

"I know we just met, but I miss him." he seemed to understand that Louis might be occupied, but he still made a desperate grab for my phone as soon as he heard it ringing. 

I saw him look rather glum as not even the nurses answered.

"We'll try again later." I encouraged, but Aaron shook his head.


	24. Petition

     "Hey Louis?" my third nurse, who I tend to refer to as "my emergency aide" cautiously walked up to me again. I understand her hesitation, I have hallucinations too vivid for anyone's comfort. Although technically, it's her responsibility to help me through this.

     "What?" I jumped a little when she touched my shoulder. She apologized, then when she had my attention she moved on.

     "Robert called us. Do you want to speak with him?" she questioned. 

     I'm agitated that she took my focus away, but I stopped to listen to her. I need to concentrate on healing, and I want to do it alone. But they don't let me do that here, they're all about "team effort". It isn't bad, but it annoys me sometimes.

      I shrugged, and the nurse nodded. 

     "Ah. Well, he wants to transfer you to the nearest rehab center, because he believes you have more pressing ailments than we can treat. He wanted to talk to you on Family Day, but he gave you your space." I was going to cut her off, but I let her finish to hear his reasoning. By "rehab", does he mean the mental hospital? Whatever happens, I know I'm not going home any time soon.

     "Go ahead and get some rest, I'll wake you up in two hours for dinner," she helped tuck me into bed. I thanked her, and she nodded as she rubbed the burn medication into my chest.

     I felt like a child for needing nap time, but at the same time I have a right to rest after being so exhausted.

     Of course, it'll be a rarity if I could actually get some rest. First I think and thoughts gather like a snowball in an avalanche, then as soon as I close my eyes- I surrender.

       I wonder if Robert will honor what he's said about transferring me. I honestly didn't know if I'm more damaged physically or mentally. I mean, in all fairness, my mind is obliterated. The thoughts in my brain aren't my own, the ideas in my head are not of my own creation. If you think about how many dangerous killers are feeding into that fountain of ideas: and that those thoughts are taking root alongside everything else all the same- the fact that my brain is not my own is really scary to me. Killing and hurting others is put on the same ground as popsicle stick crafts.

     And actually, I'm not even sure how I'm alive in the physical regard. I can't take something as simple as a step without electrifying shocks of absolute agony washing over me. Like a wave, they crash and toss me around. 

     And soon enough, I'm bound to drown.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

          I balled my hands into trembling fists in attempts to control myself as I sat in front of a man that's in favor of anything but progress. I tried everything: clenching my toes in my shoes, digging my nails silently into my thighs, and anything else I could do relatively discreetly. 

     But these are to no avail, I could not bite my tongue and take it when he's talking about Louis like he is less than nothing. 

     Besides, he pried me away from my child, stating that this is an "emergency".

     "And while he's helping us out, he'll save up money for Uni." I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my posture. I raised my head, and looked him in the eyes. 

"Don't belittle his actions. If you end up being ignorant enough not to rethink what is best for him, he will be working for us. It will be with us, if you all have any humanity. He will be doing more than 'helping us out', you are well aware there is a more fitting word." I kept eye contact with the voice that faked compassion for Louis. I raised my eyebrow slightly to challenge him to a rebuttal.

     "Robert, we're on the same team. I want Louis to go to University, I just don't see the harm in having him work before then." I grit my teeth. I felt myself getting ready to shout, but I dug the tip of my shoe in the ground to suppress my coming anger. 

You think a six year old child isn't entitled to what we are! I want so desperately to scream that at him. But I do need to keep this job for the money, and for Louis' safety. I can't lose it all because I mouthed off. 

     "He will not get into Uni unless he is properly set up now. And I concede, there's no harm done if you choose to ignore the loopholes in child labor laws you've gone through to get him here." I tried my hardest to keep myself from smirking. He's not able to hide how flustered I made him.

     "On the contrary, I don't think you're aware of his current condition," I brought up. The man shifted in his seat as I got a few pieces of paper out of my bag. 

     "These are a few pictures of him when he got out of surgery," I explained. The man shuddered, it's purely grotesque and it makes him squimish.  

     "Since then, most of the swelling to his arms, hands, and face has gone down- but it's still promenint." I winced as I began to feel like I'm giving a presentation. Like I'm broadcasting this little boys' suffering for my paycheck. 

     "He has burns down to his bones, and scars deeper than you'll believe. If you want to tell me that he's fit to work right now, go ahead." I glared at him, and put both my hands on the table in front of him. 

     "But is he mentally healthy? We don't need him in an office to work, he can give us our information from wherever he's comfortable." my superior looked down at his folded hands to crack one of his knuckles while he waited for my reply. 

     "He's currently in a Psych ward, about to be transferred to a long term mental hospital because the cost per day at the ward is too much." I sighed. 

     "Look, I get that he is a valuable resource to us, and to the world. But he is six years old, we need to give him time to rest. He needs to feel safe before we ask him to do anything-" he interrupted my plea by clearing his throat. 

      "Let me call him," he demanded. He sat himself up, and grunted at the excertion it took.

      "Sir, it's four pm, he's taking a nap right now." I straightened my posture. All my will to challenge him and push him is gone, and replaced with obediance. 

      "Well, wake him up! This is important," he roared. 

     "The nurses will tell you to call back in two hours, they let him rest without disruption." I told him. He also doesn't know how much work it takes to wake Louis up. I don't know where he goes in his sleep, but it gets harder and harder to bring him back from.

     "He doesn't understand how much we need him. If he hears how valuable he is, he'll have an incentive to heal. It'll push him towards the finish line," obviously, this man has never dealt with illness of any form.

     "Look at this picture of his arm," I directed his attention to it again.

     "It's twice the diameter from the mean of kids his age. The swelling hasn't gone down much, and if it continues it could cut off the bloodflow to his hands." I cupped my hands over my mouth. 

     "How likely is this to happen?" he questioned. 

     "I'm speaking in the worst case scenario, sir. But all the topical medicines the nurses have tried haven't worked, so we need to think about more extreme measures." I rocked back on my heels as he thought.

     "They've only tried topical? What about injecting medicine?" He scratched one of his many chins before listening to me speak. 

     "Louis doesn't handle needles well- and asking them to puncture skin that's already mutilated would be awful. And besides, injected medicine like that is what caused the swelling in the first place," I told him why it's an awful idea.

He dismissed my warnings, and shuffled out of the room with his massive shoulders slumped. 

     I sat back in my chair as I took a shaking exhale. I could feel the flames of anger burning every inch of me, he's going to do whatever he could to get his way.   
       
     I rest my head in my folded hands and took another deep breath to steady myself. 

It all comes back to money, he can do anything he wants if he pays a large enough sum. He can buy Louis with ease, and I'll have no say. Hell, he could send Louis back to Damian, Lord knows they've kept touch.

     I took another deep breath, I'm still livid. 

     "I'm gonna fight it," I whispered to myself as I got up and strode out of the room. 

     He wants to sue me? Fine, take me to court. But he should rest assured that I will risk anything to make sure Louis is safe and healthy. 

     I will give anything I have to make sure that he never sees Damian again. If he's really on Louis' side he would be focused on stabilizing him. After rehab and the Psych ward he will need some intense PTSD therapy about the event itself, and he said nothing about it or its importance. 

     This kid has become my weak spot. I'll give anything for him. Aaron is just as precious to me, I've welcomed Louis to the family. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

      I felt the nurse waiting for me to come out of my trance of the other thoughts. She sat here for what felt like indefinitely, but was only two hours.

     Now is strictly enforced dinner time. I groaned, but initiated a conversation with the nurse anyway. 

     "When will I be leaving?" I asked to break the eternal silence. 

     "If we can get everything in order, tomorrow." I sighed. 

     I knew for a fact that the rehab center here did not accept anyone my age. So, I would need to travel again to the one that's farther away. I would be distanced from Aaron, and I hope that he would not be stupid enough to visit me.

     "Robert has asked me to try more medicine for the swelling in your arms to go down," she sat in front of me and explained. I'm leaning against the front of my bed, and she's right across from me. 

       "Robert said himself 'no injections'," I hesitantly recited as she thought about the length of the needle. 

       "At first, yes he did think that way. But now, he wants us to do anything we can to help you heal," the nurse smiled, but I'm still suspicious. 

     "He's sent in his written consent, would you like to see it?" she asked.

     "No, I just want it over with," I groaned as she put her gloves on. 

     She got the needle out, and took the covering off. Next thing I knew, it was deep into my arm, and I gasped in surprise.

     Tears pricked at my eyes, and I leaned foward to curl myself up. Lately I haven't found myself doing that, but right now I feel the need to try to protect myself from further suffering. 

     "It's okay hun, you're okay." the nurse coaxed me, but it did no use. 

     She threw the needle away, and I turned away from her. 

     She thought about putting a Band Aide on the puncture wound, but wrapped gauze around my arm instead. 

      "Th-thank yo-ou," I shuddered. 

     "No problem hun, let's go get you some dinner." she smiled as she reached her hand out to me. I positioned it so I wouldn't cause myself any more pain, and she respected that by not closing her hand around mine.

     "Hi Louis." Hel and Emmy greeted me and both offered me a small wave. 

     I sat alone, I didn't want anyone to look at my skin and lose their appetite. Luckily, Hel didn't come near me. 

     The only times a nurse comes to sit with you, is if you ask them to, or you can't eat the whole meal on your own. That being said, it explains why they're only three nurses with us now. One for Anise, one for Lauren, and one for me. 

     All my nurse did is gently remind me to "take a bite", every minute. She thinks I don't know how to eat, but really I just forget to.

      I surveyed the other patients as I took a deep breath. I'm surrounded with people, but it's still difficult for me to grapple with how lonely I am. 

     I didn't focus on what the nurse is saying to me, but whenever she opened her mouth I stared at the table while taking a small bite of my sandwich.


	25. Distance

"Okay bud, I've finally convinced them," Robert has been calling me "bud", just like he does with Aaron. It was odd at first, but I didn't object. It gave me a sense of home, kinda. Besides, I don't have the energy to protest anything I don't need to.

Sarah is standing in her door frame, staring at me. 

"Will you write letters?" she asked, her tone and expression are void of all emotions. I shook my head. 

"I don't know how." she didn't react and neither of us said goodbye. It's simple, she claimed she wanted to help me, but I didn't want her help. I don't trust her, and even if I could write letters to her, I wouldn't.

"Will I come back?" I asked Robert. His thoughts told me he isn't about to stab me in the back, meaning he has pure intentions. Still, I braced myself to the thought that he's putting me in the mental hospital to get rid of me.

"Probably in, a month or two?" he guessed. He clearly has no clue, I thought it would be at least four years of extensive treatment. He has no idea how screwed I am.

"And hopefully when you are back, I can tell my colleagues that you should go to school." he stared at the elevator door as it made its descent. I just looked at the patterns on the carpeted floor. 

"Can I hold your hand?" he asked as we stepped onto the crowded sidewalk. I couldn't defy him, he could be holding a gun in his over sized jacket and if I say no, he could shoot me right now. Bleeding out on a sidewalk because of Robert is not how I'm supposed to go.

I looked up at him, and quickly nodded my head. It actually isn't a nod, it's more that I gestured to my hand with my head. I opened my fingers as much as I could, but it's still shameful.

He took his jacket off and put it on me without hesitation, it's warmer weather when I was admitted two weeks ago so I'm not dressed appropriately.

I like this weather. I could convincingly wear things that covered all parts of my body, and "my" jacket covered the grotesque scar on my face. Well, most of it.

I subtly checked the pockets for weapons, and I didn't find anything. Not even ammunition.

I imagined the situation if I did find a gun in his jacket pocket, and tried to picture what would happen after that. The fear would flicker over my face as my fingers traced over the cold metal. Robert would wonder what was wrong, but he would remember as soon as he sees my hand in the pocket. I didn't bother imagining an ending, but I did think that he would either do anything to get the gun back, or he would surrender to me. He's not smart enough to do the latter. I don't know how to work a firearm, but I had faith that the imaginary version of myself could figure it out if the time came.

Robert walked into a parking garage, and everything started to echo.

I gasped and clutched my hands over my ears. 

Hey, hey what's wrong? He thought. Instead of being over once it repeated itself, like every other thought did. I cried out and fell to my knees as they got loud and deafening. Robert began to panic. He didn't touch me because he knows I don't like it, but at this point I need something to ground me. I needed something to pull my thoughts out of whatever hell they were in, and bring me back to the moment. 

But I couldn't speak to tell him that. 

After what seemed like seven eternities, I got used to the increased volume and repetition enough to stand. I'm still whimpering and covering my ears, but I unsteadily rose to my feet. 

"Anything I can help do to prevent that in the future?" Robert asked. He felt embarrassed and ashamed of me.

His words echoed too, but not as awfully as the thoughts. It's like they are normally five times louder than the normal persons speaking voice. And I have over fifty trillion of those a second, each five times louder. So whenever I get in an environment when that ratio changes, it's like I'm starting over.

"No. Thank you though," I said instead of explaining what I just worked out.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I remember my two weeks at the psych ward vividly, I probably always will. I didn't feel mentally stable or emotionally healthy, so I didn't meet the "goal"- but I made my own personal strides to wellness. The fact that I do remember moments from there, and I can recall exactly what I was feeling- that gives me a sliver of hope for the future.

I only remember general, vague events from the mental hospital, even though I was there for longer. It was all one hazy blur. And I actually went to the hospital again before, but the only thing I recollect from that time was they put a clip on my earlobe to measure the presence of something in my blood. After a brief stop at the hospital (they want to admit me, but they couldn't), I went to a burn center for a week.

The only specific experience I can recall from there was when it was time to bathe. After the first mishap I was fine in the ward, because a nurse was there with me to talk me through it, and to soothe me when I started to scream. But in the burn center, they just cared about getting me completely submerged in the freezing cold water, not about calming me when I freaked out over it. 

It was viewed as "occupational therapy"- and it's one of the simplest tasks they have. And I couldn't do it. 

I've come to miss how the nurses treated me in the ward, they're much more nurturing than these people. It's not their fault though. Their job is to care for the patient's body, not the patient. 

After I spent a week there,  I was off to live what I thought at the time would be only five years of my life. It was double that, of course I didn't know that when I was six. I only remember my first day at the mental hospital, nothing more.

In the spirit of comparing the ward to the mental hospital, the quiet rooms differed.

They do have a room to put people that misbehave, but it looks more like solitary confinement than a place to relax. They put giant foam blocks on your hands and feet to keep you from hurting yourself, but I didn't see the use. If the patients had any extreme desire to hurt themselves, they could easily bash their head against their knees. Once I told a nurse my thinking, she made sure I never went in the quiet room. Instead, when I acted out, they would just sedate me.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time unconscious.

I feel a bit ashamed to say that in ten years I didn't go through any huge changes, I still scream whenever I'm left alone or after I wake up. I still have hallucinations of being kidnapped, and I still attempt self- injurious tasks to try to stop thinking, even for a second. I was desperate, and still am.

Additionally, there are giant crowds of adults around me two times a day every day, and I was always encouraged to make my own goals. But I never wrote them down. My only attempt at writing was a letter to Aaron, which went like: 

I'm exhausted. How are you/your day? In response mainly to when he asked how I'm doing. Aaron sends me letters, once every week. They're riddled with spelling mistakes, but I'm in no position of superiority to point that out. I never even sent my trashy letter, I was so ashamed of myself I crumpled it up and tossed it in the rubbish bin. 

The fact that Aaron reserved so much of his time to write me letters all on his own made me really upset.

That's how life is going. I know what each of them is thinking, so it's like I have an insight into their lives. It's cool, but I can't have an impact. Which is like I never really mattered, seeing how they're getting along fine without me. 

Except Aaron. Why is he so hung up on me? I'm damaged, and I scream way too much. I'm sure that bothers him. 

"Letter for you." a social worker knocked on my door (my room this time did have a door on it) and slid the envelope under it. I walked up to it, but tore open the envelope and sat there to read it because I didn't want to wait three seconds it would take to get on my bed and lie down. 

I smiled down at the messy handwriting, I missed him more with every word I read into it. 

Louee- He began, but scribbled it out. After three more tries and most likely a call for help, he got it right. 

How ar yu? I tuk a test in sckool today. I tryed to call but ther wasent an anser. I got angerey and dady said go to yur room. I miss yu hope yu come bac soon!!!!! He even attempted signing his name, but all I could make out from that was "A". He did spell everything how it sounds, I had to give him credit for that.

I took my tin of push pins out, and drove that letter into the cork board above my bed, perfectly in line with the others. Then, I follow through on what has since become a habit. Every time I get a new letter from him, I sit on the ground and lean against my desk and rest my head on the wall behind me. Then, for about five minutes I just admire the letters, because I am indescribably thankful for them. 

Occasionally Robert would send me a letter too, but I don't read them. He sends them bi-monthly, so I only have a few. I keep them separate from Aaron's letters, I tuck them away in a desk drawer. 

Life at the mental hospital is too boring to describe. At times, my skin would swell and a blue layer under it (I'm not describing this in full detail simply because it's really gross) gained me immediate re-admittance into the hospital. I spent two more long weeks there, the symptoms went down, then it was back to rehab for double the amount of time I started with. I cycled through that three times, then it looked like I was actually going to be better. 

The constant back-and-forth alarmed the people in rehab the first two times, but then they grew accustomed to the ambulance sirens wailing from time to time. 

The people I live with are definitely different too. They're more reserved, and less willing to go out of their way to make you feel better. Not even a kind word. But that's fine, they look down at me scornfully anyway. 

I really wish there's a pediatric center near me, but if it was an actual reality I would probably be too saddened at the sight of kids like me being hurt. 

I got off the floor and sat at my desk. I wouldn't count this as a specific thing I remember, I just knew that I was going to write back to Aaron. Whatever it took. 

I tried to focus on kindergarten teachers talking, as I knew what they were thinking wherever they were when they went about their class. It's so stupid, I focused on that one person to the point of complete exhaustion just so I could follow along. 

The end product was still pitiful, but Aaron deserved something in return. 

Hi. 

I haven't been sending you letters, but I've been writing them. My first try was very bad, so I didn't want you to see it. You always ask how I am, and I want to tell you that I'm very tired and sad before I see your letters. I love reading them, thank you for thinking of me x

I ended it there, remarkably no one is thinking of how to write in cursive. Somehow I knew that's how you're expected to sign your name, but out of six billion people no one at the moment was thinking of how. 

Apparently, the x at the end has the same effect. 

But after I wrote that I fell asleep, it's tiring to follow one persons thoughts. 

I'd prefer not to explain again how awful and lonely being asleep again felt. I started to panic, which made it feel like the air was being sucked out and I was being suffocated.


	26. Jail

"Your first day here was alright I hope?" my social worker asked. I nodded, mainly to get them to leave me alone.

     "I'm gonna send a doctor in here for just a bit, okay? We need to make sure the swelling in your arms is going down," he explained. 

      "I've already been stuck with a needle, if they're not going to be normal anymore I don't care," I told him. I didn't want to get pricked again. He didn't listen to me, but he still nodded for some reason. I think he nodded just to get me to be quiet, which I can't be angry at him for. I have the same tactics.

     "Hi Louis!" a person in a labcoat walked up to me. I guessed it's a doctor. 

     "How are you doing today?" she asked. I assumed that the response, 'I've been forced out of touch with all of my emotions and feelings to such a severe degree that I don't feel anything but internalized agony and crippling loneliness' is unacceptable.

     "I'm good." I know the grammatically correct phrase is "I'm well", and then it's good manners to add "thanks, and yourself?". I found myself dumbing my speech down so people don't concern themselves with how much I know. I don't have the time for it.

     "I'm glad!" she smiled as she took a measuring tape to my arms and legs. Like it's as lighthearted as getting me sized for new clothes or something. 

       "Alright I will see you soon, and I'm so glad you're having a great day!" she grinned. She just assumed that since I said "I'm good", that I'm automatically having a great day. Strange how she thinks that's a valid connection to make, when my body language and expressions are shouting for help. Spoken word shouldn't be taken as fact, especially when it's not the truth.   
       
     I didn't say goodbye to her, even though she might've to me. After she stood up to leave, I wasn't listening to her anymore. 

    I'm completely alone in my room again. I sat against the wall in every empty position I could, and lied on my bed and stared at the ceiling for more hours than I could keep track of.

     But unless I passed out from exhaustion, I made myself stay awake. I see the world for what it truly is when I'm asleep, and it's remarkably depressing.

      So, instead of letting a disconnected sense of anxiety and dread set it like it always does after I wake up, I let my mind ramble. It follows whatever thread it wants, going in all different crazy directions. It still haunts me, but I've gotten used to it by now. I've grown accustomed to the fact that I can't control this. It's taken over me.

     I tucked my knees up to my chest, and rest my head against the wall as I stared into the center of the floor. I rocked back and forth gently and hummed to myself, I lacked anything better to do. I took a deep breath, and let my thoughts drown me again.

     I can't describe what it feels like to surrender. It's not liberating, that's for sure. It just heightened my sense of numbness, which dulled everything else. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

     "Robert, we have a call from the police station for you," my secretary popped her head in my office and handed me the phone. 

     "Yes?" I answered, both as a greeting but also because I'm so confused. What business do I have at the police station? Did something I need to do slip my mind?

    "I decided to use you as my phone call. I'm turning myself in." I could basically hear his sickly sweet voice, and I know for a fact that it's Damian. He hung up before I could react, so I was left mortified of the future in silence. 

     I leaned backwards in my chair, and cupped my hands over my mouth. I took a few deep breaths, then my eyes stopped being so wide as well. 

     I don't know why he dared to do that, but I know that something awful is about to happen.

     I wonder if Louis knows what's going on. God, I hope not. Damian is closer to him now, so he can do more damage to Louis and the entire city, if he wants. 

     Why now? I can't truthfully say Louis is in a good place, but he is getting help. I know why Damian would want to ruin it, because the weaker Louis is the easier it is for him to tell the child to do whatever he wants. But why this particular moment? What made today so special, and how could I have prevented it?

     I know this kid. He is doing his absolute best to handle the crushing weight of the world in his hands, and he would not take advantage of anyone in the process. And now he knows for a fact that his future is very grim.

       I stopped thinking for a moment, and answered the Face Time call from Aaron. Every time I see him I hope he never hears what cruel things people have said about him. I wish I could shield him, just like I want so desperately to do with Louis. 

     "Hi daddy!" he grinned. It's his first day of third year, and he's a bit nervous. He looks happy now because he's realized not much has changed, he's still with the same class and teacher. 

     "Hey bud!" I waved, and he began talking fast and excitedly about every detail of his first day that I wasn't there for. He started from right after I dropped him off, and I listened to every detail.

     "We need you down at the station," my secretary informed me.

     "Alright bud, I've gotta go. I'll talk to you when you get home, okay?" I told Aaron. He paused for a moment, getting a look on his face that looked like a deer in the headlights. 

     "Yes." he looks a bit confused, but looked up at his approaching teacher and hung up the call. 

     If I have to say my deepest fear, it would be that I'm worried for him. I'm concerned he'll never get practice reading or writing, or he'll let people's harsh words make him into a man that he's not. I just want the best for him, I hope for it every day. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

     I like being alone, there's no one around me that I could hurt. 

     I'm surprised he has a voice left. You know, after all the screaming he's done. Everything came to a crashing halt. 

Panic suffocated me as his thoughts flooded my brain. Their absence petrified me, but their presence is terrorizing. I braced myself for him to come back, but I would never be ready.

      I gripped my ears and clenched my teeth together. 

     This is another hallucination, this is another hallucination... I chanted to myself, desperately trying to make my voice louder than the one listing the things he's planning to do with me. 

     I screamed as his laugh whistled through my head. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

     I silently drove down to the station. I have to ask him my questions, even though I know he won't be honest in his answers.

     "Hello!" he cackled as he pounded his hands against the bars. 

      "You're insane," I swore. He chuckled and began to pace in his cell. 

     "I got ten years," he teased me, almost like he's bragging.

     "You deserve ten life sentences," I muttered. 

     "Is he not doing well?" Damian questioned, wondering if he'll be charged for murder or involuntary manslaughter as well. I would've taken his honest tone while asking as only suspicious, if his pupils didn't dilate in interest.

     I got out the pictures of the engorged limbs to show him. I figured that he is relatively human, so he would feel remorse upon seeing something so atrocious that he caused. 

     I called that completely wrong. He gasped, and did a little dance in his cell. The charges stacking up against him didn't seem to matter, he'll rot in prison if he gets the chance.

     "You sick bastard." I cursed at him.

     "He can't even move on his own!" He shouted in glee. 

     "God, I hope that son of a bitch loses both his hands," Damian grinned when he imagined it. 

     "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I breathed. 

     "Is that your only way to seem strong? Cursing so frequently? It's been said that's the expression of the illiterate," he taunted. 

     "I have no other words, you're getting off on thinking about killing a six year old," I'm trying to explain, but I'm too exasperated. 

     "No, I'm not planning to kill him yet," Damian corrected. 

     "Yet?" I felt my back pockets to discreetly turn on a recorder I always keep there. 

     "Hey!" Damian shouted as he held up my recorder. 

     "How-" I wondered before I could think of anything more constructive to say.

     "And no, I'm letting him live ten years before I kill him. He deserves to live and suffer," Damian gripped the bars and grit his teeth as he put his face between them. 

     "He didn't do anything!" I shouted. 

     "He ruins lives wherever he goes. Don't underestimate his power," Damian advised. I know his remark isn't true, but he chuckled when it looked like I believed him.

    "Robert, please." My superior motioned me out of his cell. 

     "You'll see! He'll bring everyone to their knees, you'll be begging him for mercy!" Damian screeched as I locked the thick steel door behind me.

     "What is it?" I asked as I walked down the same hallway I was walking up five minutes ago. 

     "He's making claims only you and Louis can confirm or deny. I need you to answer what you can, and maybe we can bring Louis in as well." he stood with the weight to one hip and took a deep breath. That's his signal to show he's finished, and expecting a reply from me. I'm glad my interaction with Damian was cut short- but I know Louis won't be so lucky.

      "Louis will not come near Damian- you seem to forget what Damian has done to him." Once again, I'm trying not to shout. I know that would just escalate the situation unnecessarily, and I don't need another fight.

     "It'll be for a short amount of time." I have something to say to that, but he opened the door to silence any debate. 

     "We are recording," he reminded us as he stepped out. He doesn't want to be in the middle of this.

     "You want to be a hero to Louis," Damian spat at me. The guards moved him to the interrogation room, and handcuffed him to the table. They also shackled his feet to the chair, which is cemented into the ground.

     "He deserves someone that will treat him well," I fired back, but retained my calm stature and even tone.

      "Bullshit! He's unstable, on the brink of insanity. I can drive him over the edge with ease." I didn't respond to that, I didn't have a strong rebuttal. His statement made my heart hurt, I can't even imagine what Louis is experiencing right now. 

     "I'm fighting for him. He's going to get the things he needs even if I have to give life and limb. I'm on his side." I worked hard to keep my tone even. 

     "You don't give a damn about him!" Damian shouted. He is loud and obnoxious to make himself seem superior to me, but I just found it annoying. I bet Louis is having a hard time coping with Damian's loud thoughts though. 

     "You think he'll stay with you instead?" I questioned- I'm truly confused why he said that. Where does he expect Louis to go? He can't live in a mental hospital, that's impractical.

     "Robert, have you ever heard of 'Stockholm Syndrome'?" Damian started grinning as he saw a trace of fear flicker over my face.


	27. Reunion

God, what is wrong with him? 

You think he'll scream when he sees Damian? 

Ugh, why do we have to bring around the psycho?

I better get a raise if he loses it, I'm not dealing with that. 

He spent a year here, you'd think he'd be looking better by now.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Why are you crying? 

I miss Louis, I miss him so much. I want him to come home, I love him. 

Calm down, it'll be okay.  
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I will protect him from you, if I have to give everything.

Louis, I know you hear me. It's so good to be back, I can't wait to see you again. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Open your eyes! It's so simple, it's your only way out. I can feel us falling, this isn't the end- is it? 

Just wake up. Please, we have so much we need to go back to. Don't give up yet, we have too much to finish.

I'm begging you, I did not keep you alive this long for you to lose it now. Focus, listen to me! 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I do adore seeing you this way Louis, you're so weak. I missed your scream, I have to admit. Well, I'll be right next to you as soon as the sedatives they injected into you wear off.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You can't drug a kid into submission, Jesus Christ. Louis, Louis can you hear me? You've been out for quite some time. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I grabbed Louis and prevented him from throwing himself off the chair. He jolted awake and started to scream, and covered his ears and winced.

"Ha!" Damian mocked him. I saw Louis' breath quicken as he was struck down with fear. He fell silent, staring at Damian with wide eyes.

Like prey in the presence of a predator. 

"Louis, he's behind bars. You're safe, I'll keep you safe," I promised, but he isn't paying attention to me or anything I say. He's looking Damian over, his eyes are darting all over the room and scanning the entirety of the cell.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°  
I have been thrown into the lions den.

"You said you couldn't arrest him." my chest burned with hate. I'm not angry, remarkably. Or if I am I didn't know it. 

In a sense, that lie kept me safe. They assured me they couldn't do anything, so that meant all their energy was going to protecting and caring for me. But now, It's been proven that they can do something, and should have a year ago.

They were being lazy. And they prepared everyone to lie to me to cover that up. And now, Damian has planned something massive that they are in no power to stop. It isn't going to go off the rails and reach a screeching halt just because Robert claims he "cares for me". 

I took a deep breath before I did something that I would regret.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Two sheriffs came in, and instructed us to go to the interrogation room. They ushered us out, then unlocked Damian's cell. Louis turned quickly away, and held onto my leg. 

"Why?" Louis looked up and asked me, his eyes are filled with tears. 

He's actually dealing with the situation fairly well, given the circumstances. I took a deep breath and looked at the floor ahead of me, I have to be strong for him.

"You just have to say whether what Damian says is true or not. So we can take him to court," I told him. He reached up for my hand, and I held his.

"I don't remember." Louis expression has no colour in it. At this angle, I could plainly see how thin his face has become in a year, and how pronounced and obvious the lack of sleep he's gotten has become. 

"Just do your best," I told him. Whatever he's done to his face irritated the X scar Damian carved into it, the area around where the knife made contact was red too. It only looked minimally healed.

I shuddered when I remembered this kid has been through more than a lifetime of pain, and is only seven.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Hi Louis! Nice to see you again." two people I have never seen in my life greeted me.

"Please, have a seat. Robert, we can take it from here." Robert shrugged and showed himself out, but I raised a hand in protest. 

"Please- he makes me feel safe." my voice is shy and nearly silent, but they heard me. I lied flatly, but they didn't catch on.

I will tell you what to say Louis, and if you don't listen there will be a world of consequences. I reached for Robert's hand as he sat down, and he moved it closer so I can grab it. I'm nervous, it seems like I've already been through a world of consequences. I do not want to see what else he can do.

Squeeze my hand if he tries to manipulate you? Robert "asked".

"Louis, can you describe to us what happened to you in the physical regard?" they questioned. There's a growing pressure in my head with every question they asked, and nothing I could do will get rid of it. That aside, they phrased their sentences oddly I would go as far as saying they're incorrect. A correct way to say it would be, "what happened to you with regard to your physical state?" But they wouldn't listen to me whole heartedly if I am the one to correct them. Hell, because of my age if I say anything against Damian, they'll automatically take it with a grain of salt.

"Sunburn," I murmured, and wrapped my shaking fingers around Roberts hand tighter. Robert took a deep breath. He knows I'm lying, but I need to let him know that it's because of Damian.

I think it's pretty obvious everyone is going to pretend to ignore the giant scar across my face. They don't want to find Damian guilty, that's been declared. If they did, they would've arrested and tried him when I first came. Not a year later, after he came out of hiding and practically turned himself in. They probably won't even ask about it, because there's no explanation besides that he carved it into my cheeks. It's too precise of a mark to have fallen, and too severe to let them think it was an accident. 

"How did you get to where Damian was?" the other one questioned. Just like the nurses at the psych ward, I could not be bothered to learn their names or make an effort to keep them apart. 

"I was wandering around, and he took me out of the harsh weather." I looked in the center of the table as I clutched Roberts hand. 

"Why were you wandering around?" they asked. Even if I wanted to tell the truth I couldn't, I don't remember what happened to me.

"I dunno." I shrugged. I squeezed Roberts hand again, and he stood up. Damian didn't influence my answer too much, but he did demand that I say "I don't know" instead of "I don't remember". Not knowing is easier for them to address then I don't remember, mainly because the latter raises other questions which leads them to having to do more work. 

"A word." he glared at the two people asking me questions. 

He didn't think about who I was left with, and before I knew it they were invested in their conversation outside of the soundproof room. 

I looked at Damian with terror in my eyes. He is handcuffed to the table, but he still made me whimper in fear.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"He was lying. Every single answer," I told them. 

"How do you know?" I anticipated this, I actually worked this scenario out in my head a little bit ago.

"He was holding my hand under the table. I thought that he could squeeze it when Damian was mentally manipulating him into an answer, and he did." honesty is the best way to go, even if it did make them furious. 

"That was underhanded and sly," they scolded me. In unison, remarkably.

"This whole thing is underhanded! We didn't need to bring Louis here, that was completely unnecessary." they were silent. Either they didn't have a response, or they are starting to agree with me. 

"We'll review the footage." reviewing the footage won't do anything, but I let them go. They have more work to do, and I couldn't suggest how to go about it. Unless Damian will gain something from it, he won't tell the truth. And while Louis' life is on the line, he won't tell the truth either.

"Can we bring the mom in for questioning?" the woman voiced. I thought about it myself, but it would be an atrocious thing to do.

"We've already crossed enough lines. Even if we find his mum- we can't bring her here and keep her son," I told her what she already knows. What would be even more heartbreaking, is if his mum finds him here, goes to hug and kiss him, and he doesn't remember her. He's told me all that he remembers, and there's nothing about her on the short list.

I bet she's sick with grief. I want to return Louis to her, but traveling is too dangerous for him now. And we can't bring his mum here, not while she's dazed from the loss. And I don't think she'll ever recover from it.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Come here. 

"It's soundproof," I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes. I see no reason why he needs to think instead of talk to me. But I'm also not as on top of things as I would be had I been fully awake.

I yawned, this is taking forever. I never got truly rested when I slept, but I still want to keep trying it.

"You're right," he said, his tone is monotonous. 

But they are recording. Come here.

Do I need to remind you of everything you've lost! Come here, I will not say it again. I looked down at my jeans curiously, a drop of water fell on them. My nose started to run, and it took me a few minutes to realize I am crying. I'm not sad, but emotions and a bodies natural function and reaction to stimuli are entirely different. 

I shuffled over to him, but tripped over the table leg on my way. I'm too tired to shout in pain, or realize how much control has been lost for Damian to be holding me again.

Close your eyes, go to sleep. Get some rest, you can wake up when Robert tries to take you away from me. Damian rubbed my back and held me to him so I could use his chest like a pillow. Somehow, he freed himself from the cuffs. And he waited until I physically couldn't escape to demonstrate his skill.

Believe me, if I had the energy to move, I would have. But terror held me in place, fear of what he would do petrified me to stay in this position. 

I nuzzled my head in the fabric of his jumpsuit, and tried my hardest to forget what I'm doing and who I'm with.

I don't care how long it takes. I will break you. That horrifying phrase is just a lullaby to me now.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Wha-" Robert's eyes are wide, and I smiled.

"Sh! He's sleeping," I whispered.

"Let go of him," Robert quietly commanded. 

"No. He's comfortable." I smiled as I looked down at Louis. He's in a deep sleep now, it never takes him long. I held his head so it wouldn't fall to the side and hurt his neck when he woke up. He wouldn't anytime soon though. He's softly snoring, and drooling on me. 

"Look, I don't know what you're playing at, but-" I cut Robert off again. It's quite fun. 

"Not playing at anything. If you must know, Louis fell and hit his head. I was the only one around to comfort him, so he came to me." 

"Is it bad?" Robert didn't come near me, but he looked immensely more worried when I mentioned Louis getting hurt. 

"Eh, he's been through worse." I smirked.


	28. Bucket list

     I held Louis' tiny body close to me. He completely let his guard down, his shoulders are relaxed and he didn't struggle as I held him.

     It's a shame he won't remember this moment at all in a few short weeks. I don't expect him to ever recall much about his life, he's too busy processing the world's thoughts to give any attention to his own. Unless someone is constantly thinking about him, he won't be able to remember anything. And besides his mum, who has shut down from grief over a year ago, Aaron is the only person that wants to go through the effort of constantly reminding him who he is- even though he doesn't even know who Louis is. Aaron is clueless, Louis has been away from him for more time than they've been together. And yet, the stupid boy still thinks they're brothers.

      One small voice like Aaron's is not going to mean anything to Louis. It'll be drowned out by trillions of others in seconds, he might tune it out all together. Ha, that would be magnificent if it's reality, but Louis probably listens especially to Aaron. I bet he listened to his mum, before she went insane from her loss and he completely forgot about her. They both had so much love, and now they're both so demented.

     Aaron and Robert are the only people he knows, and a select few know of Louis. He is the world's best kept secret. A few people in his hometown may have a faint memory of him, I can imagine that his mum babbles endlessly to them about her beloved son. But still, Aaron is the only person that cares for him. He's the only person that can still function correctly, even though he's off the rails a bit himself thanks to Louis. 

     But the blessed havoc Louis can wreak now is besides the point. Aaron will miss him at first, but after a few months the memory of Louis will vanish completely. Just a small headstone that will be scarcely visited will remain of him, the most powerful person in the world. But, also the most unloved.

       Ah, I get so off track when I daydream about when that day is finally upon us. But until then, I fully expect life to pass him by. He'll have no memory of what he's missing while he spends another nine years in the mental hospital while I serve my sentence. And when I'm out, if Louis hasn't made himself useful by then, it'll get interesting.

     I sat there for twenty seven hours as he slept, not even Robert could stay and watch for that long, and the guards didn't interrupt to bring me back to my cell. When an especially disturbing thought entered his mind he stirred, kicked his feet, and maybe even shouted, but I coaxed and soothed him until he fell asleep again. 

     "You won't feel anything soon," I assured him. That calmed him down.

     I can tell you, the looks that crossed Robert's face were hilarious. He looked at me like I had three heads. 

     Louis woke up calmly, I bet it's the first time he ever has. 

     Where's Rober- what?" he whipped around in a confused and tired daze. 

     He groaned and touched the bruise on his forehead. 

     "I don't know. You fell asleep on me," I told him. He mumbled an apology, but I shook it off. 

     I walked back to my cell voluntarily. Louis followed me, a truly remarkable finesse on my part. 

     He sat right on the other side of the bars, as close to me as he could get. This goes beyond freaking Robert out, the effects of when I fill Louis' head with positive memories of me will be legendary. He'll begin to doubt himself when his mind tells him to get away from me. 

      I barely need to do anything, he's tearing himself apart. It'll only get worse, he won't be able to tolerate his own company anymore.

     He leaned his head close to me and took a deep breath. 

     I ran my fingers through his hair, his brain fascinates me. It's such a little space to cram all the information ever thought about, I wonder how he hasn't suffered severe damage yet. Or maybe he has, but he uses the ability to cover it up. Clever. 

     He closed his eyes as I stroked his scalp. I've fully brainwashed him at this point, a seemingly impossible task.

     "Robert's coming back," Louis mumbled. I nodded, and thanked him for telling me. I gain an insight into his tangled mind with everything he shares, and it's truly a brilliant system. He's mortified of me, but can't put his finger on the reason why. That compels him to overshare, which is magnificent. 

     "Hello." I grinned as I heard the beep when Robert scanned his ID to grant him entrance. 

     "Louis, c'mon," Robert remarked breathlessly. 

     Louis rose to his feet unsteadily and staggered towards Robert. 

     "You okay bud?" he's idiotic enough to ask. 

     "No." Louis shuddered. He looked more relaxed when he sat with me, although he gets progressively more on edge with each second that passes.

     "I'll see you soon Louis." I saw him shake his head and grip Roberts leg as he walked away. Children are fickle, but he will never forget me. And if he does, he's in for quite a rude surprise nine years from now. I can't imagine that he could look in the mirror and forget who gave him the scars, but he's incredibly clumsy and stupid so I wouldn't put it past him to forget all about me. 

      Either way, I win.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

      Robert called Aaron via Face Time when we were in the car. He isn't driving yet, just ready to. His call got cut short earlier, so I guess he's making up for it? I don't know, Robert makes irrational decisions all the time that I can't explain with logic. It's aggravating. 

     "Can I put you on?" he asked me as it rang, and I agreed. It would probably be the last I saw of him, now that Damian's plan is being put into motion I could be killed any day now.

     I doubt that Robert told Aaron any of that. 

     "Hey bud!" Robert grinned. 

     He tilted the camera to me, and I awkwardly waved as he squealed. 

     "LOUIS!" he started giggling as happiness overtook him. Robert handed the phone to me, and I talked to Aaron as he started driving. 

     "Thank you for your letters." I smiled at him. 

     Letters? Robert thought curiously. Aaron wrote them all on his own! When he crossed a word out multiple times, that's him realizing it looked wrong. And he toiled over making it right for me, all by his lonesome. 

     He didn't even think about it, it's sheer determination. 

     "No problem! I got your letter too, I'm sorry you feel sad." he pouted. I still let a small smile tug at my lips, and shook my head. 

     "It's fine. I'm just lonely." he nodded. I liked the fact that he listened to me and nodded, instead of saying the bullshit that adults do. Stuff like "it'll get better, don't worry!" for example.

     Could Aaron be my friend? No, I'm getting ahead of myself. Wait, that's not the phrase I'm looking for. Getting ahead of hope? No, that makes no sense. Hm... getting my hopes up! There we go, finally I remembered something properly for once.

     "What happened to your head?" Aaron gasped as he saw it. It's a nasty bruise, but it didn't hurt that much. I have other things to worry about, physical pain isn't on my list.

     "I fell. I'm fine," I assured him, and he nodded. Something I also like about Aaron is that he takes me at my word. If I say I'm fine, he'll believe it. Which makes me feel guilty about lying to him, but I'll forget all about it within the week. He will too, we're both quite flighty.   
       
     "At school, I wrote my first- daddy, what's it called?" he asked. Robert didn't turn his head, but he started thinking about it. 

     "What?" he asked, and split his focus. 

     "The thing my teacher asked you to correct. I wrote it during school, on lined paper and everything." he didn't leave out any details, that's for sure. Even the pointless ones, we can assume at his age in school he would be writing on lined paper- he didn't need to specify. 

     "Paragraph, bud," Robert said over his shoulder. 

     "Yeah! My first pairmagraph!" I chuckled to myself when he misheard, and my chest started to hurt as I realized how much I miss him. It feels hollow, not just a void like I've grown accustomed to. This is the first time I've ever been aware of the fact that something is definitely missing in my life, and I know it's him. But I can't count him as a friend or a brother, because I'm not going back to him.

       It was silent for a few seconds. Then, he looked me in the eyes. Something he hasn't done at least in the duration of the phone call, and something I do not ever remember him doing.

     "I missed you a lot," he said without thinking. 

     "I missed you a lot too," I mumbled. 

     "Is your skin healed so I can hug you?" he shifted his position from sitting criss cross applesauce on the couch, to lying down. I winced, he thinks I'm coming home.

     "Yes," I answered anyway. I want to hug him too, it's been more than a year since I've seen his beautiful face. My skin is not healed and he couldn't hug me, but that's a problem Robert can deal with for lying to Aaron. He didn't outright fib, but not telling the whole truth is just as bad.

     "Yay!" he grinned again, then blew me a kiss.

I felt bad, which is more than Sarah does when she commits unspeakable acts. I'll apologize to Aaron if I get the chance.

     I hung up the call and looked up to Robert, and spoke with the authority of a thousand professors. 

     "I know you're thinking about how Damian is treating me now.  You can talk to me about it." Robert took a deep breath. He seems to always do that, as a form of punctuation maybe. I was clear and concise, I didn't say anything I didn't need to.

     "How stupid do you think I am?" I laughed a bit while asking that, and confused Robert beyond belief.

     He actually thinks I'm companions with Damian! 

     "Explain yourself," Robert invited. 

     "When I slept on him, he commanded me to come over. Just like he did when I was answering the questions. And I was too exhausted to scream for you, it's a soundproof room. And when I was sitting next to him, I was tapping the word 'help'  in Morse code with my left hand to the ground so the cameras could pick up that I was in distress." Robert shook his head slowly in awe, I saw it in the mirror. 

     "You're one smart kid, Louis." he nodded in approval. I'm thinking things that are much darker than I'm saying in response to that, like how I formally lost my sense of caution and how even if he killed me now, I wouldn't be upset about it.

     "In all fairness, Damian is not hard to outsmart." Robert nodded in agreement, and we laughed a bit despite how grim my recent thoughts were. Especially grim, better stated.

     "There's one thing that I don't get, though," Robert questioned. I'm already prepared with the answer, he's been thinking of this for awhile. 

     "Why did you stay in his arms so calmly?" I blushed and looked down at my feet. 

     "I uh- I pretended he was you." I lied. Robert looked flattered enough, and convinced. 

     The truth is, he threatened that if I don't come over to him, he would do something awful to Aaron. I don't feel guilty about wholly lying to Robert, he should know that I will never be at ease around him.


	29. Plans

"Relax, okay? We're all here to help you," the nurses tried to calm me down, but that didn't change the fact that they still held me still.

"Close your eyes if you need to," the male nurse directed, but that didn't get the image out of my head. They all tried to distract me as one doctor out of the crowd sanitized my arm to plunge a syringe into. 

"Stop, please!" I begged, but not one of them let me go.

I whimpered like a child as the needle pierced my skin and the powerful sedative coursed through my bloodstream.

"Count backwards from ten if you can," they are all standing over me now. They kept pushing the drug into me, and worked extremely hard to immobilize me. I didn't need that much reinforcement, my arms and legs are already starting to go numb.

"Ten," I started weakly, and groaned as the lights above brightened to a blinding glare.

"Nine," they were all talking, but I couldn't hear a word. How their lips moved didn't match up with what they thought.

"Eight," I couldn't feel my face, and my vision blurred into fuzzy spots instead of clear colors.

"Sev-v," I could hardly keep my eyes open now. The doctors and nurses began to coax me gently as they saw my eyelids flutter.

"Jesus! He really needed a full Gram? We could've easily accidentally stopped his heart!" The doctor who was ordered to administer the sedative began to protest.

"I know how much he can take and how much he needs. Get him prepped for departure," their supervisor answered coldly.

I let a few hot tears trail down my cheeks, no one is here to mock me for it. I hugged my knees to my chest as I breathed in the cool air of my subconscious confinement once again. 

"Hello again," I spoke to no one, there's not an audience of doctors anymore. 

I'm completely alone.

I didn't preoccupy myself with trying to escape, I made myself at home in this fucking wasteland. Right now, I'm suspended in a woven cage- all of my own creation, of course. I don't make a fuss because I know what happens when I rock the boat. I'll get completely immersed in the thoughts, which are always present and trying to choke me. I've created a shelter from it all, even though it's brittle. The negative thoughts seep through though, I had to make myself suffer even in my dreams. I shivered as I thought of what it would feel like if my entire body is drowning, not just my mind. From there, I wouldn't know what happens. Maybe I'll force my skin to absorb every single word, and I would die of ink poisoning. Or, Maybe only certain words would stick, and force me to parade them around like tattoos. All I know is that I won't ever take that leap into the unknown, I'm not brave enough. It takes courage I don't have to leave myself at the mercy of my mind, and I don't have any faith in myself that I would be okay afterwards.

I became well acquainted with my nightmare-refuge, I spent what must've been years there. Not all at once, out of the nine years I spent here it's safe to say I spent six of those unconscious. The amount of time I wasted didn't matter- nothing changed in the years that passed. I still got drugged monthly while they observed me, and I still dealt with crippling loneliness. 

My head filled with whispers that leaked into my safe space, they were fragments of threats from a man. I knew nothing else about it, and I didn't dare to think about it more. It would break holes in the only place I feel safe. There's no one to threaten me, and there's nobody that I can harm. 

I don't even know who the demonic person is, I just know some man is lethal to me. I've started to avoid every stranger, any nurse I haven't met or any visitors that claim they're here for me. I've completely isolated myself, I even keep my distance from nurses that I once trusted.

"Hey, cheer up! You're being released today!" my social worker weakly attempted to lift my spirits. 

Instead of acknowledging him, I looked in front of the mirror, and tried to get used to my appearance. My breath hitched as I saw my face, and the back of my throat started to ache. I did feel upset about this, I didn't know that I could feel upset. I'm frustrated my small, angular cheeks are almost entirely scar tissue. And it's so hideous, I have no words to describe how awful it looks.

"Louis?" he approached me cautiously. I didn't step backwards or yell, there's no point. I didn't even flinch, I won't gain anything by acting afraid of him.

"Can we walk out of your room now?" he asked, and tried to put his hands on me. I inhaled sharply and stumbled away from him. I pressed my arms to my chest, and exhaled shakily. I cast my gaze down to the floor, and he put his hands up like he was surrendering. 

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he apologized. I still didn't step towards him. I backed myself into the corner, and he looked clueless about how to help. 

"Hi Louis." a nurse waved and smiled sympathetically at me. I know I'm staring at her with wide eyes, but I couldn't think about it enough to stop. I began to feel like my body is an empty shell that I can't control, and she held me as my muscles started to seize.

"It's okay," my social worker coaxed when he noticed that my chest began to tighten. I held my breath even more. It's not anything I did on purpose, at this point it's one of my instincts. The beginning stages of Oxygen depletion help me cope, the pounding through my head fights off the thoughts for a couple of minutes. I hold it for four minutes normally, and it goes well unless I get interrupted.

"Take a deep breath, you're okay." he tapped my shoulder to remind me to exhale. It's pitiful that he has to baby me, but when I have to process too much I just shut down. My mind never stops racing, but my body becomes completely frozen.

How shameful is it that a social worker feels the need to remind a seventeen year old to breathe? That's the most basic thing! I shook it off, and resolved to get a grip. I did that voluntarily to help myself, I shouldn't beat myself up over the consequences.

My muscles relaxed in the nurse's arms, and she smiled with pity. She feels sorry for me.

"We're discharging you today!" she quietly cheered. I stayed still and stared at her blankly, it's information that I already know.

But still, I know what she expects from it. She hopes that if she's gentle, I'll ease up. But she doesn't understand that this is not her fault, interaction isn't what bothers me. It's the dread that's petrifying, the thought that I will be actively suffering again makes me feel ill. I just want it to be over with, the anticipation makes me anxious.

"Louis?" my social worker prompted me to reply. I didn't know what I was supposed to reply to. Her remark, perhaps? But what am I going to respond with, other than acknowledging her?

I nodded, and chuckled. She didn't notice that I'm teeming with anxiety, she thinks everything I'm doing is sincere. She helped me up, and my social worker lightly pat me on the shoulders.

It'll be a pleasure bringing you to your knees. I cried out as a booming voice in my mind became clear. I tripped and fell on my ass, but I kept kicking myself backwards. The nurse stared at me as I hyperventilated.

I groaned as his message continued, ringing my ears and causing a migraine. It's like the ground is shaking, but it's all in my head. 

"Louis? Louis!" he won't stop touching me, and I can't communicate that if he stays so near to me, I will lash out and hurt him.

As it is habit, I covered my ears and tried to will the pain to go away. Too many things are going on at once. Like rushing cars plowing through my head, they left me shaking as they passed. His remark made my heart hurt, but after all this time I still can't describe why.

There is a feeling of something heavy on my chest, and it's getting harder to breathe. I curled myself up in the fetal position to shrug off the social worker, and tried to force his thoughts to leave me. Like exorcising a demon from my mind, I know I don't have the strength to go through with it successfully. 

I've done the same things, even with age. I shout when things are overwhelming, and I curl up to make sure I don't get hurt. But I found out that people are less likely to want to help an adult than a child. 

You're just getting closer to me seeing you again. I barely have to do anything, if you keep acting like you are now you'll destroy yourself. My eyes fluttered open to the same confinement my mind has been in for ten years. My first thought was for the social worker to help wake me up, but I can't let him know anything. He has no clue about the crisis I'm in.

I felt pinpricks on my skin, and shivered at a cold gust of wind that I made up. I can assume that the atmosphere represents the emotion I'm supposed to be feeling. Here it's always stormy, and I'm always alone. I can't come to terms with the loneliness, I haven't been able to for ten years. I just can't wrap my head around it.

I shouldn't say "I dreamt up stormclouds", because this is a nightmare. I'll say that I created the threatning weather, because that's more accurate. The blame should always be on me for this. It's my mind, I'm at fault for how twisted it is. 

Cold weather symbolizes the negative emotions, and warm weather the positive ones. I pulled that from a director in the middle of making a scene that centered around desolation. I sighed as the conditions I'm responsible for worsened.

Without someone's help to wake me up, I have to make a plan. I need to get in touch with my mischevious side that I haven't paid any attention to for a decade. I have to bring Damian down, one way or another. He deserves to suffer for the pain he caused me. 

I shivered as a gruesome scene flashed before me. It was gone in a second, but I saw myself screaming and writhing around on the floor. The scars on my face were fresh then, but the horrid memory didn't play long enough for me to see who had the knife.

Still, I plotted. But as much as I desperately reached for some inkling of a scheme, nothing came to me. The wires that carried the connection have been long severed, which left me with only one option. 

Surrender.


	30. Home. (Part one)

I know the beginning of the story and the end, but I don't know what I can do intermittently. 

The paperwork is done, I'm on my own. Before I stepped out into the chaos, I changed into normal clothes that they bought for me.

I dressed myself in the quiet room, and took a moment to note what style was fashionable now. Luckily, no one is waiting for me, I'm not their concern. 

They gave me denim for bottoms, and a softer fabric for the top. My curiosity got the better of me, so I ran my fragile hand along both of the fabrics. I found that my fingers slid down the rough fabric easily, but kept getting caught on the soft fabric. 

I sighed, and carefully pulled both articles on. I was given a jacket as well, which I carefully tugged over the burns. The skin was healing, but it's still very sensitive. 

I squinted my eyes in response to the bright sun. My new shoes tapped as they made contact with the stone walkways below, everything was so noisy. I groaned as I became aware of the volume of people on the street. They are all rushing somewhere, they all have places to be. 

I clutched my shoulder in response to someone bumping into me. Forcibly, though- I know "bumping" isn't the right word. They rammed their shoulder into me, that's a more accurate depiction of events.

"Watch it!" They sneered and kept walking as I winced. 

     I held my shoulder, and hoped that the pressure of my grasp would help stem the pain. 

I didn't want to explore anymore. I want to spend the least amount of time around these people as possible.

I ducked into a coffee shop. The thoughts are the quietest there, so I knew before I entered that it's not densely populated, and no one is yelling. I took a moment to relax before I did anything else.

I hoped I could pay for a small coffee with change I had, but I shouldn't have hoped so dearly. The barista saw my scars and pitied me, they're about to offer to make it for free, but someone skipped up behind me and swiped their card. 

"You didn't have to do that," I told the stranger. He shook his head and smiled, and led me to the counter to wait for my drink.

"How are you doing?" He asked, greeting me like I'm an old friend. 

"I'm- fine, thanks," I nodded slowly.

"A-and you?" I stammered as I began to feel like he's expecting something from me.

"Good," he answered, even though you can't be doing good, unless you're a superhero. He didn't catch his error, and I didn't feel like correcting him. 

"What's your name?" I asked, just to make sure this isn't the evil man's plan to lure me to him. I doubt he'd be able to pull me out of a coffee shop when people witness it and can call the police, but I'm still skeptical of everyone. It seemed odd to ask that without introducing myself first, but I didn't care about manners right now. 

"Aaron." he stammered. I knew the studder isn't him lying, he's nervous for some reason.

He moved his weight to his left leg, and rubbed his right shoe on his left. He also figeted with his hands, and anxiously waited to see what I would do next.

"Nice to meet you," my voice quivered as well, this is my first time I can remember greeting another person. I know how you're supposed to do it, I've learned that much, but I can't apply my knowledge. 

"You too." his face fell, he's really upset about something. He looked down at the counter and sniffled, and I studied him to try to figure out why. 

You forgot me? He's one word away from bursting into tears.

"What did I forget?" I urgently asked him.

"You don't remember me and Robert?" he asked, and I shook my head. 

I thanked the barista as my cup of coffee slid down the counter and between us. I took it and thanked Aaron, and he sat down before speaking again. I hesitantly joined him shortly after.

"No." I was going to apologize, but if he knows who I am then he knows this isn't my fault, so I shouldn't apologize for it. 

"What can I do to help?" I integrated that part of an apology that you use when you realize that you've hurt someone. I'm accountable for my actions, even though what I said didn't change Aaron's thinking at all. 

"Don't worry about it!" he smiled unnaturally wide and insisted. He pretends to be happy, but his eyes aren't smiling, they're watering.

He looked down at the table, and held his coffee between his hands.

I caught a glimpse of how much suffering he's been through. I want to apologize for this as well because it centers around me, but it's not my place. For ten years, Robert has lied to him about when I would be coming back. Aaron isn't thinking about who Robert is, but he's kept two beds in his room ever since to be ready. That's not a massive thing considering he's emotionally had his heart ripped out, but seeing that empty bed before sleeping and the first thing he sees when he wakes up has gotten to him after a while. He began to doubt Robert assuring him that "he'll be back soon", but he kept the bed out anyway. Hoping against hope that it'll bring me back.

He stopped thinking about how he's been betrayed and by himself for ten years, and focused on me. He observed me, which I shouldn't be frustrated over because I've looked him up and down four times in two minutes. I felt that any change in his body language is worth noting, to see if he means differently than what he says and thinks. He never does, though. 

He tapped his right foot erratically, like he has a spasm in his leg. He breathes through his mouth, and he takes shallow breaths even though he's not feeling anxious.

      I furrowed my eyebrows as he shivered. I saw his whole body shudder for a moment, and then the hairs on his arms stood up as goosebumps appeared. 

       "Cold?" I asked, even though his teeth were practically chattering. Gusts of wind sweep through the shop everytime the door opens, and I knew it was too much for him. 

       He didn't respond, but he did try to casually fold his arms to his chest. 

     I began to shrug off my jacket, but Aaron practically threw himself on the table to object. 

      "No! It's okay, I'm fine!" He insisted, but I shook my head and gently pulled it off my arms. 

       His breath hitched as I slowed down and stood over him to help him into it. 

     "Y-you-" he looked up at me, and looked positively helpless

  

"How have the people been treating you?" He questioned. 

"Out here?" I asked, and he nodded. 

"I don't know how to stay out of the way," I liked my lips to wet them, and almost bit them before I stopped myself. 

"What do you mean?" He scratched his head, and that caused his hair to get all displaced. 

"I have a nasty bump on my shoulder from where I collided with someone," I explained. I know for sure that I did not charge at him, but I made it seem the other way around out of habit.

I blushed in embarrassment, because he's looking at me to see how much I've healed. 

"Some of the scars went away." he tried to cheer me up, but his tone is too weak to do any good. 

"I'd hope so. Do you know how I got them?" I asked him. He panicked for a minute, but shrugged before hesitantly nodding. 

"My dad says you were thrown in a bath full of acid. And Damian cut up your face," Aaron explained. 

So Damian is the name of the dangerous stranger. And the slight hole in his remark is cleared up by his thoughts, and that is that Damian must've thrown me in the bath as well as cutting my face up. 

"Thank you," I told him. He began to blush at the recognition.

"I appreciate knowing some more things about myself," I explained why I thanked him.

"I can tell you more if you like?" he asked. I nodded, but I knew everything he thought about saying before he opened his mouth to say it. 

You love- or loved coffee, so for the past seven years I've done my homework here and waited and hoped that I would see you. In speech, he omitted the second half of the sentence, and reduced the entire phrase to three words. That makes sense, I need a stimulant to fight off the exhaustion. 

I feel the need to make sure he isn't trying to lie to me, this is crucial information and I can't afford to be misled. 

I winced as Damian's thought sounded in my head again- like an alarm. 

"What can I do to help?" Aaron asked. I didn't spend my energy on replying, I clamped my hands over my ears and put my head on the table. I bit my tongue so I didn't scream. 

Aaron touched my head and tried to hold my hands.

The only way I can end this is if I go to him. I can't procrastinate any longer, and the longer I stay here the more Aaron gets lured into a false sense of security. It's not fair to do that to him.

So, for the good of everyone, I need to leave. I can't make myself tell him that, but I need to leave him with something so he doesn't feel stabbed in the back like his father did to him. 

"I'm sorry," is all I managed to choke out before walking out the door. Aaron sat in shock for a minute, but then barreled out of the shop and jogged next to me. It goes without saying that he's more athletic than I am, and six times stronger than me too. Still, I can run longer than he can. I've built up the stamina. 

"Louis!" Aaron called after me, and made me turn around. I stopped running away, I wouldn't be able to tell you why. I didn't want to wait for him, I didn't want to explain why I ditched him after he saw me for the first time in ten years. I can't imagine what he's feeling right now, and I don't want to.

"Tell me why you're going with him. Tell me why you're leaving me." He remarked, out of breath. He sniffled, and as if on cue the tears rolled down his cheeks. He balled his hands into fists to channel his anger into somewhere other than his eyes. He didn't want to look at me with a scowl intended for someone else.

I didn't know why I didn't hide and spend more time with Aaron while Damian looked for me. I guess I just don't want to live in fear anymore, I've been doing that for a decade. And I don't want to go through the process of meeting people again because people are much less open to help a clueless adult than a clueless child. I set myself up for this moment, I want to end my suffering. I'm ready. I have nothing to do now but die.

"Stop!" I shouted at him instead, and almost sprinted off. But he's been hurt too much, I can't harm him anymore. I've caused him so much grief already. 

"Hey," he mumbled, and I apologized. His volume is small, but the anguish is painfully evident.

"I don't want you to get hurt," I explained. 

"I appreciate that, but I'll take the risk. I know you don't remember this and you don't want to trust me, but you're like my brother," Aaron remarked bashfully.

"You're not coming with me." I recognized signs of emotional distress, but I couldn't ease Aaron's pain. I felt it, and just the sliver he thinks about is enough to bring me to my knees and nearly push me over the edge. I can't begin to describe how broken this boy is, and how hard he works to keep himself together. 

"Stay where it's safe-" my follow up had no effect on making him okay with this.

"I'm sorry you got so wrapped up in this." I gave him a quick hug before bolting in the opposite direction. The contact was so short, it's just enough to stun him into staying where he is.

I ran faster than he could keep up with, which is the goal. I ran faster than I thought I could. For the few hundred feet I had to travel, it was liberating. The wind ruffled my hair, and I'm able to move around for the first time in ten years. But after I traveled the distance I needed to, my legs gave out from under me and I collapsed.

Damian clicked his tongue as he dragged me in the abandoned business building. He was waiting for me. So many people passed him on the street and know his face from wanted ads, but didn't think to call the police. Or, they just didn't get here fast enough.

"Stab me," I immediately reminded him, and he shook his head.

"You've been waiting for this moment for ten years, don't you want to draw it out?" he grinned. I forgot about the over the top side of him.

Damian laughed as I shouted in pain and assumed the normal position that I do when the world gets too overwhelming.

As he pushed me up a few flights of stairs, something emotionally tugged at me. I can't put it into words, I wish I had the ability to. He hit my back and yelled at me to go faster, which made me trip over myself a few times.

Damian laughed as I was wheezing when I got to the top of the stairs.

"You can act strong and brave, but your lungs sure can't," he chuckled to himself.

"For all the brain power in the world, you are such an idiot." A human representation of everything I've come to dread turned around to face me. Before I could even comprehend it, I was kicked to the ground. I was already on my knees, but now he is pressing his shoe on my head. He's ready to crush my skull if I disobey.

An evil smile crept across his face, I know his expressions from his thoughts.

"Do your worst." I grit my teeth as he briefly assaulted me once more. I'm too weak to fight, so I have to tolerate the constant blows.

"Is that a challenge?" Damian raised an eyebrow in interest as he pulled me up by one of my arms. I took a deep breath, and scowled at him as I did. 

I gathered all the bravery I could muster to face him and say what I want with full confidence. I know what I'm about to lose, I know exactly what I will surrender. The least of which is my life, I mostly just care about keeping Aaron safe. I doubt he'll be able to stay and sit in a coffee shop after he's seen me, and especially after I've told him to stay put.

"It's an invitation."


	31. Home. (Part two)

     He dropped me to the floor again, and yanked my hair back to observe the damage. 

     "Where's all the energy? You're a rag doll," he grinned, bearing both rows of his decayed teeth. He straddled me, and spat on me as he talked.

I bit the back of my tongue so I wouldn't scream. I can't give him that satisfaction again.

He slapped four of his grimy fingers under my chin and forced my head up. His hands shook in excitement as he traced his thumb across his handiwork. He positioned his other fingers anywhere under my jaw to enable his thumb to scrape across what's scarred, and infect anything that isn't. Although, something as slow-moving as infection doesn't matter now.

I didn't dare to breathe abnormally, but Damian saw me trembling and chuckled. My skin crawled as I shivered involuntarily and pleased him.

"I can't imagine the pain you're in right now," he faked sympathy with a soft voice that was glossed over with his fascination. He spoke slowly and calmly as he stared at my wounds. 

      He began to grind his teeth together when he realized that even though I'm walking through hell again, I'm not flinching.

He pried my mouth open to see if it would still make the scars bleed, but instead the first thing he saw is how I'm avoiding screaming. 

"You bastard!" he swore, and bashed my head into the ground. I tasted blood again from where my teeth punctured my tongue. I admit that if he had gone on any longer, I would've drawn blood myself. 

"Fuck it. I get the pleasure of giving you what you so richly deserve: to suffer for what seems like decades as no one comes to help you." he shrugged, and held my head down while I spat out the blood. He laughed, I didn't have the energy to get it off my lips. It dripped off my tongue and pooled between my lips and bottom teeth.

He left me there, and I heard him take a chair from a stack on the wall.

He lifted me up with ease, then dropped me like a sack of potatoes. He began tying my legs to each other, then to the leg of the chair to ensure I don't escape.

"Too tight?" he questioned as I began to squirm. He yanked it to make it more constricting, and I whimpered. 

      I gave you such a beautiful gift, and you wasted it, he thought to himself. 

      He used a pair of handcuffs to bind my right wrist to the arm of the chair. The cold metal of the chair bit into my wrist and began to cut off the circulation to my hand. 

"Open your eyes," he commanded, with a tone like I'm a being lower than him. I listened, and he silently took a deep breath as his pupils dilated. More blood trickled out of my mouth, and he rubbed his hands together as he stared.

"I want you to see every second of what's about to happen." he's centimeters away from my eyes, I could see the pores on his skin.

"You had a decent time. Seventeen years, that's quite enough. More than I was willing to give you." he chuckled. 

"You act so strong." Damian scoffed and began to pace.

"But you don't even have the energy to close your jaw," he addressed the drool mixed with blood that's making a puddle on my jeans.

"Open your eyes!" he demanded when they involuntarily closed again. 

"You son of a bitch!" he fumed, he thought I'm deliberately disobeying him. But really, where my head crashed into the ground is throbbing, and it stings my eyes to keep them open. 

"You think you can defy me and get out unscathed?" He held my head still, and I braced myself. 

He punched me in my left eye, and the tissue around it began to bruise automatically. I winced as the impact made me see stars. The swelling followed immediately after as well, and I couldn't see out of my left eye at all. 

       I get what he's doing. My thoughts are whirring away constantly, and it made me realize that he is terrified of me: so even though he chained me down he fears I'll escape. So, he chose to impair me further, by messing with my vision and mobility. But why did he punch me when he could've used his knife to carve my eyes out entirely? I guess he doesn't want to do anything that'll kill me before his big finish. He's quite theatrical, it pisses me off. 

"You knew our deal Louis, and you betrayed me. So really, anything I do to you now is reasonable," he said, and brought the knife up again to make a jagged carving across my stomach.

He likes hearing me scream, how it rings out into the emptiness of the room gives him a sick thrill. He was supremely disappointed when I grit my teeth and stayed silent. I channeled all my energy into not succumbing to the pain and made sure to pretend I'm perfectly well. 

As much as I wanted to be heroic, between the bruises and blood originating from my stomach, I couldn't completely silence myself. I bowed my head and screeched briefly in despair with every exhale.

"Your clock is slowly ticking." he smiled. He knows injuries to the stomach lead you to bleed out slowly, but it's incredibly painful.

I let out an exasperated gasp as the wave of agony hit me again, but shortened it so I didn't bring him any sense of pride. Still, he viewed it as my defeat and mocked me for it.

I raised my head to look him in the eyes despite the blood gushing out of my abdomen. I found a renewed sense of spite, and desperation for revenge. He's going to know the repurcussions of his acts, even if it kills me.

"You took everything from me." I scowled, and I began to see fear flicker over his thoughts. I basked in his terror and how liberating it felt to cripple him once more. It didn't matter that he'd regain his composure within the minute. I can rest knowing that he was powerless to me again. I couldn't stop him, but I could draw this moment out as long as I could to unsettle him.

"Do your worst." I paused after every word. I just barely had enough air to make that remark.

I moved my functioning eye up towards him, while not lifting my head.

     Stop it! He thought as he took a step away from me. Even though I'm restrained and dying, he thinks I'll hurt him. He's convinced he'll die at the hands of his creation.

"You're worthless. No one will miss you." he shook his head as he readied his knife once more.

He's obsessed with it, it's his sick addiction. I silently accepted whatever is going to happen. I volunteered for this, after all. 

"I'm not scared of you!" he murmured, even though I didn't bring it up. I wanted to laugh, but that would quiver my diaphragm and cripple me. He kept talking to prove he's powerful, but even though I'm bleeding out he knows I see right through him.

I let him ramble, nothing I said now would matter.

"And what about all the people you've forgotten? I bet you can find at least one person to stay alive for." he chuckled as I didn't respond.

"Huh? Who's worth living for?" He tormented me like a grade schooler. When I didn't give him the light of day, he backed off. I'd hoped for the opposite reaction- if I disobeyed him, he'd get livid again and finally kill me. It would be over, I wouldn't be forced to listen to him talk as I await my death.

     "I thought you would want to stay alive long enough to find your mama." he shrugged. 

      "You remember her, don't you? Oh, she cares so deeply for you." What's he talking about?

       "Yeah, she lost her mind when you left- the poor lady is paranoid now," he clicked his tongue and spoke as if he was reminiscing. He wants me to be fully interested, but I couldn't follow. 

He bashed the handle of the knife into my shoulder, and watched me retch in agony. He's interested.

"Oh, that won't do." he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

You haven't seen anything yet! He thought, so loudly it made me groan. I know what's coming, but I could never prepare myself for it.

Damian faced me as his fingers punched the elevator buttons.

The pieces fit together. He knows he couldn't do anything physically to me that could really shake me. So, I die. Whatever. And he knows that's my attitude towards it, so he chose to tap into an emotional reserve that held all of my pain, something that my mind has been stowing away for ten years. 

And he knew just who would trigger the floodgates to open.

I instantly recognized the thoughts and the striking blonde hair as Aaron collapsed.

I mouthed the words, "breathe, please" over and over again, as if the repetition could coax him into listening to me. I know he's alive, and now I know from Damian that he was standing and pounding against the elevator door and he passed out against it. Still even though I know that for a fact, his limp body never fails to mortify me.

I knew he was coming, but how did Aaron get here? Son of a bitch probably tried to follow me.

       "You don't think he's worth living for, and yet he put himself in harms way to spend time with you. Wow," he whistled a bit and looked at my distended face. 

He kicked Aaron's side to get a reaction out of me.

He came to while I was disregarding thoughts and trying to focus. Damian didn't interfere once he regained consciousness, he knew Aaron would pummel him as soon as he laid eyes on him. So he stayed back, away from his line of sight. He knows how strong Aaron is, and his muscles showcase that.

Aaron looked at me as he slowly rose to his feet. He didn't say a word, he just stared at me blankly. He stared at the puddles of my blood with no readable reaction.

The pain seemed to leave me. I couldn't focus on how quickly my very insides are deteriorating when Aaron's life is in danger. 

"Louis?" Aaron spoke slowly as he flinched at the forming bruise on his hip. 

"Do you want to say anything to your beloved?" Damian mocked the fact that I don't remember him. 

Aaron whipped around at the sound of his voice, and practically beat Damian into the ground. I saw him be more violent to this one person then I ever have before.

Within a minute Aaron was on his knees with a bruised and bloody Damian hunched over him. Damian is holding a knife to his neck and his hands behind his back. His efforts, while they were valiant, didn't seem to matter anymore.

I hung my head and listened as it all unfolded before me, without the aide of sight from my one eye that's not swollen shut.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Aaron, would you like to do the honors?" my eyes widened as he handed me the knife. I looked at Louis for indication.

Damian let me stand on my own, and then he backed away and gestured to Louis. Damian swept his arm like he's directing my attention to some sort of pedestal. 

He's showcasing his proudest achievement.

Louis is murmuring something that I didn't understand, and taking shallow frequent breaths in a desperate attempt to breathe at all.

I squared my shoulders as I approached Louis. He looked up at me with a bloodied face, the hope is gone from his eye as I look ready to do this.

"End him, or I will kill who he has left," Damian instructed, and I wrapped my fingers around the handle. The knife has to go in deep the first time, it has to be precise.

"Louis, I'm so sorry," I apologized to him as I started crying for what I'm about to do. It's like how if you hit a deer, you have to put it out of it's misery. And Louis has been miserable for too long, there's no hope in recovery. There's no alternative. 

"Do you want- us- to die?" I tried to rationalize my actions, and he shook his head. I hiccuped as I said "us", I couldn't make myself less of a blubbering mess.

"No." he had to take a deep breath to say that simple word, it took so much of his fleeting energy to push that much sound out. 

"Wh-where do you want me to hurt him?" I asked Damian, and he looks more than happy to tell me how to kill Louis. Damian took a step closer, pointing exactly to where Louis is sure to die if I did this.

"Have the knife perpendicular to Louis' upper thigh, and strike in the middle of the leg. Twist the blade as well, if you like." I took a deep breath before I raised the knife to plunge it into his skin.

His blood from his stomach came into my line of vision. It looked like he'd been sliced in half. He had a matter of seconds left.

"I love you Louis." I told him as I raised my arm with the knife in it above my head. He hung his head, completely embracing the thought of death. 

"Goodbye," Louis whispered to me, and all I could manage was a nod. My tears dripped off my cheeks onto his leg, marking where I needed to land the knife into.

I wrapped my fingers tightly around the knife, it has to go in deep the first time. It needs to be done quickly.

He must die. 

"It'll be over soon, I promise. You won't suffer any longer." I shut my eyes as I brought the knife into the leg of my defenseless target.


	32. Home. (Part three)

Aaron turned his head up to me, my blood is on his pale hands. 

My head began to spin as I fell forward in the chair. Pin pricks bombarded my arms and legs until they lost all sensation. 

The agonizing pain of the laceration became sharply localized. I gasped, and cried pitifully. I know showcasing my affliction demonstrates weakness- but I couldn't contain myself. An ax is repeatedly swinging into my innards, and a hammer is grounding my bones to bits. I permitted one tear to roll down my cheek.

My chin fell to my chest, so I can accurately blame my dizziness on the copious amount of blood I'm losing. Out of my fragmented peripheral vision, the details of the ground blurred into one dull color. From all edges inky blackness started taking over my vision, and a low buzzing sound replaced anything I would've heard.

The world's thoughts have left me, which means nothing on this earth can keep me alive. I'm no longer at the mercy of Damian.

The last out of the universe and long awaited, my voice went quiet. My thoughts are forever dormant, and I felt content as my brain fully shut down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's powerless now. 

The repercussions of what I've done reverberated through me and made me shiver, but I'll never understand the magnitude of it. I've ended his life- I'm a murderer.

I risked a look at Damian's body- the knife is still in his thigh. Most would interpret the blade sticking out of his flesh as bravery, that I've "conquered the devil"- but in reality I'm just too much of a coward to retrieve it.

I rose to my feet and stumbled over to Louis. I walked on trembling legs, and my knees knocked together as I kept my distance.

The tips of my shoes were immersed in his blood, and I'm standing a full foot away from him. I felt a pressure on my heart as it seemed to become heavier, and I broke down into sobs as I didn't see his chest rising and falling.

I could've done so much more for him, maybe I could've prevented this entirely... those thoughts weighed me down as they accumulated, but I didn't move to think about anything else. I've become fixated on the death that surrounds me, with all the gruesome details. 

I found myself staring at Louis. What's more concerning, is that once I realized that I was focusing on him, I couldn't stop myself. I tried to force myself to step closer to him and check for a pulse, just to confirm my theory. But, I couldn't make my stubborn feet move.

I pulled it together enough to call the police, and blinked away my tears as it rang. Maybe if I bat my eyes enough, this will go away?

"Nine one one, what's your emergency?" the operator asked calmly.

"I need police- there's been two murders downtown," my voice is soft and small, but shrill at the same time. I told the dispatcher my exact location, and she promised to send help. 

I hung up and tucked the phone in my pocket, then pulled my arms across my chest and waited. I heard sirens in the distance, and tried to make a different scene play out in my head. I tried to imagine a greater ending, but everytime I close my eyes I see their grey skin and the hollow faces. It's all tattooed on the inside of my eyelids, whenever I try to rest I'll see Louis' eyes sinking into his skull.

Damian's head rotated towards me, and I screamed and jumped backwards. As I caught my breath minutes later, I realized that's just the muscles relaxing and he really is dead. 

Still, I'll always visualize him rising to his feet again and tearing the knife out of his leg only to sprint towards me and seek revenge. I shuddered as I let the thought run its full course instead of suppressing it.

The police pointed their guns at me as soon as they entered.

"Put your hands up!" one of them commanded while they walked over to me. The other started to put the handcuffs on me, and I didn't protest. Behind us as we walked out, the forensic scientists and the medical examiner went to work.

"What were you thinking?" one officer asked, incredulous to my ability to make poor decisions.

I thought about this for a moment. I didn't say an answer, but I did think of one that sums it up: I just wanted to spend some time with my brother. 

I snuck one more glance at him before they took him out in a body bag.


End file.
